Travel Companions
by Doriana101
Summary: A plea for help from an exiled Senator takes Sabine and Ezra to Anzat, a legendary Mid Rim planet. Over the years, a genuine friendship has developed between the two, and Ezra still deeply cares for Sabine. Maybe an extended mission will be what it takes for the stubborn Mandalorian to finally consider him more than a friend. Multi-chapter. Will not surpass "T" rating.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N Hey, guys! I've wanted to write something like this story for a while, and FINALLY the inspiration hit. Writer's block works in mysterious ways-I've been pushing myself to finish Each of Us Has Heaven and Hell in Him, to no avail, and this story just came out of the blue. I WILL finish EH4, though. This story may or may not connect to EH4, but I haven't decided yet. The tone will be very different, but they might be compatible, continuity-wise. As of now, this story is not an AU. Special thanks to the Quinlan Vos: Jedi in Darkness omnibus, Starbucks for their green tea** **blended thing, and my college for starting late.**

 **Please note: Translations of any Mando'a words used by Sabine will be at the end of each chapter. Though fairly familiar, I am in no way an expert on Mandalorian culture, so please don't be too critical!**

* * *

 _Travel Companions_ , Chapter One

As Ezra finished loading the last supply crate, Sabine swiveled around in the pilot's chair. "Ready, Master Bridger?"

Ezra grinned, hearing his official title from her lips. "Only if you are, Commander Wren."

She swiveled back around, and fired up _The Phantom_ 's engine. "I wish Hera would have let us take _The Ghost_ ," she commented, busy with the rituals of takeoff.

"Right," Ezra snorted, "We're lucky she even let us take _The Phantom_."

Sabine glanced back at him. "With the promise that you won't be flying."

Ezra rolled his eyes, but before he could retort, a voice came over the central 'com. " _Phantom_ crew, you're cleared for take off."

"You mind if I meditate?" Ezra asked.

"Go ahead," Sabine responded, expertly steering _The Phantom_ out of the dockingbay and into Yavin 4's atmosphere. Sabine engaged the hyperdrive, and after they made the jump to lightspeed, Ezra walked to the back of the small craft and assumed a meditative position. Closing his eyes, he attempted sink deep into the waters of The Force. But for some reason, he stayed at the surface.

Not some reason-he knew why. He could sense Sabine's eyes on him, unintentionally drawing him into her Force presence. It was a presence he had grown accustomed to, but one he never tired of. Her spirit was dynamic and vibrant, if a bit guarded. It cast a glow across The Force around him, like the moon over the water, enthralling him.

 _Don't get distracted, Ezra_. He could practically hear Kanan's voice in his mind. Kanan had witnessed Ezra and Sabine's relationship deepen into one of genuine friendship over the years, and he knew all too well of the Jedi's attraction to the Mandalorian. When Ezra and Sabine were assigned a mission alone together, he could sense his former master's disapproval. However, because Ezra had recently reached the status of Jedi Knight, Kanan no longer had any input into which missions Ezra was assigned. Besides, Ezra wasn't the love-sick boy on Lothal anymore, and now, at eighteen, he was on the cusp of manhood.

Perhaps that was more dangerous, now that Sabine viewed him as an equal. Ezra knew that Sabine hadn't forgotten about his attraction to her, and sometimes, he wondered if she returned his feelings. They spoke freely together, and Sabine let her guard down with him, most of the time. She would never say it, but Ezra knew that he was her closest friend. Sometimes, when moments of comfortable silence fell between them, Ezra felt that perhaps she viewed him as more than a friend, but he could never conjure the courage to say anything about their feelings. He didn't want to jeopardize their relationship, one that had taken years to establish.

When Ezra was a boy on Lothal, Zeb had tried to suggest that he was only attracted to Sabine because she was the only girl he knew. As Ezra met more women through the Rebel Alliance, his feelings for Sabine only grew. Even the fierce, beautiful Princess Leia did not hold the same magic as Sabine to him. There was nothing Ezra did not love about her-her artistic mind, her military expertise, her sharp, sarcastic humor. They had their differences (the Mandalorian was quicker to use violence than the Jedi, for instance), but Ezra truly thought that there was not another person in the Galaxy quite like her.

Of course, there was the small problem of the Jedi doctrine surrounding love. The Jedi of old strictly adhered to the rule of no attachments, but Kanan paid them no heed in his barely-obscured relationship with Hera. Ahsoka had never even mentioned the teaching, but though strong with the Lightside of The Force, Ahsoka did not seem too fond of the Jedi. Ezra knew very little of her past, only that she had been betrayed by a fellow padawan and expelled from the Jedi Order as a youth. Besides, Ezra did not fully understand the teaching. He assumed that the Jedi of old meant that a Jedi should not allow his personal feelings affect his decisions. But wasn't love the driving force behind everything in the galaxy? The Rebellion was formed because all of the rebels loved freedom. Did that mean they were _attached_ to freedom? In that case, how could attachment be wrong?

Ezra's musings were interrupted by a loud crash. His eyes flew open, and he saw a crate of supplies had fallen, barely missing his head. Sabine rolled _The Phantom_ right side up again.

"What did you do that for?" Ezra demanded, scrambling to his feet.

"It's too quiet in here," Sabine said, her grin evident in her voice, "I'm bored. Talk to me."

"Yes, your Highness," Ezra muttered, pulling the dislodged crate up beside her chair and taking a seat, but not before sending a small Force push her way. She caught herself before she fell out of the pilot's chair, but instead of pummeling him like should usually would have, she only laughed-much to Ezra's surprise. "Why the good mood?" he asked.

"I'm just happy to be getting away from the Alliance," Sabine responded. Ezra knew that Sabine, like Kanan, was wary of the militaristic order of the Rebel Alliance. Her time as a cadet at the Imperial Academy on Mandalore had soured her to military protocol, and the only reason she remained with the Alliance was because she believed so strongly in their cause. That, and she wanted to stay with the people who she considered her family.

Changing the subject to one less painful for her, Ezra asked, "What kind of terrain is Anzat?"

"Mountains, valleys, forests," Sabine answered, "That kind of thing."

"I sort of wanted it to be a snow planet," Ezra said, disappointed.

Sabine wrinkled her nose. "Why?"

"I've never seen snow," Ezra admitted.

"I don't like snow," Sabine said, "Ketsu and I once went to an ice world called Mygeeto. The planet was stuck in an ice age, and it was miserable. If you touch snow with bare skin for long enough, it feels like fire. I like cold even less than I like heat. When the rebellion is over, I want to live on a temperate planet, like Naboo or something."

The thought of living out the rest of his life on a beautiful, mild planet beside Sabine sounded like heaven to Ezra. Rather than give into the daydream, though, he asked, "Have you ever been to Anzat?"

"No," Sabine responded, "And I never wanted to. The native inhabitants are a nasty bunch. Their claim-to-fame is they like to feed on brains, which they call 'soup', by inserting retractable proboscises into your nostrils. They're also telepathic, so they get in your head before sucking out your brains."

"Lovely," Ezra responded dryly, "Why would Senator Cadaman want to hide there?"

Recently, the Alliance had been receiving encrypted transmissions from an ex-senator named Tanner Cadaman. He had represented the planet Feenix during the days of the Republic, and was a member of the Delegation of 2,000. Not long after the formation of the Empire, he fled the Imperial Senate, went into hiding, and was now requesting the help of the Alliance. Bail Organa, Mon Mothma and the other leaders offered to send a team to extract him from his current location, Anzat, which was in the mid-rim. He sent his coordinates, which both Sabine and Ezra had committed to memory. The rebel leaders planned to offer him a position within the Alliance, and Cadaman readily accepted their help, prompting Organa himself to assign the delicate mission to Sabine and Ezra.

"It's the perfect hiding place for a fugitive," Sabine answered, "No bounty hunter is stupid enough to leave Anzat's spaceport, much less the Imperial forces."

"But we are," Ezra said with a laugh. Trepidation began to weigh in his stomach. He could sense Sabine's feelings, and she was unafraid. The Mandalorian lived up to her peoples' reputation, it seemed. If only he could conjure the famous Jedi heroism.

"That's why I requested you," Sabine said, giving him a playful punch to the shoulder, "You're the only one dumb enough to follow me there."

 _Sabine requested me?_ Ezra thought, feeling pretty happy with himself. Her words, though teasing, were weighted with meaning, and it gave him something to mull over on the long ride to Anzat.

* * *

"Approaching Anzat," Sabine said, under her breath. Sitting beside her, Ezra could obviously see the steadily-growing, dusty-red planet, so her announcement was useless, but old habits died hard.

"Do you have the creds?" Ezra asked, leaning forward to watch the luminescent gases twist like ribbons around the sphere.

"Yeah," Sabine responded, patting the satchel secured to her belt. They rattled against her hip, a sound familiar to the former bounty hunter. In fact, this entire assignment was beginning to feel like one of the many missions that she and Ketsu had completed in her youth, before she met the Lothal rebels. She had played many roles in her nineteen years-Imperial cadet, bounty hunter, rebel. The latter seemed to stick for longer than the others, and felt the most natural.

Sabine steered _The Phantom_ towards the Anzat spaceport, which orbited the planet. Situated near the Perlemian Trade Route, it was the only spaceport in the system. Naturally, it attracted a wide variety of clientele-bounty hunters, smugglers, hookers-but rarely Imperials. They, like many in the Galaxy, feared the Anzati people and preferred to leave them alone. In fact, the spaceport was the furthest point that most off-worlders were willing to venture. Anzat was a legend throughout the Galaxy, and Sabine remembered Ketsu refusing a job that would have led them there. Now, Sabine was laying eyes on it herself. She was a little surprised at her own lack of nerves, but she guessed it was due to the Mandalorian blood running through her veins. If only she were allowed to wear her armor: Organa had insisted she and Ezra travel in nondescript clothing. Granted, Jedi robes and a full set of brightly-colored Mandalorian armor were not the norm in a place like Anzat, but she missed the status that her armor gave her. The sight of a Jedi would be alarming enough, but a Jedi and Mandalorian together would be more shocking still.

The Jedi were her ancestors' mortal enemies, and the house from which Sabine hailed, House Vizsla, fought as warriors against the Jedi in the ancient times. Admittedly, Sabine did not fully understand the concept of the _Manda_ , the afterlife, but she could not shake the feeling that her ancestors were constantly watching her, shaking their heads at her close association with the Jedi. But Sabine was a rebel, after all, and her friendship with Ezra was not explicitly at odds with the _Resol'nare_.

"They don't want identification?" Ezra asked, as Sabine skillfully maneuvered _The Phantom_ into one of the spaceport's dozen hangars.

"No, all they want is creds," Sabine said, "As long as we pay them, they don't care who we are."

Ezra stood, his lean form nearly reaching the ceiling of the craft. "Ready to go?"

Sabine nodded, pulling a sand-colored shawl over her shoulders. Her trousers, boots and tunic were all of the same boring color family. At least her hair was still bright, although tied off in a knot. "Just remember," she said to Ezra, only half-joking, "You're no good to the Alliance dead."

"I have you to protect me," Ezra quipped, as they made their way down the shuttle ramp. A tall, humanoid man approached, his skin tinged with gray, and he wore an outfit of simple, brown cloth. He grinned, revealing stained teeth.

"Welcome to Anzat," the hangar attendant said, in almost a mocking tone, "Five hundred credits minimum to dock here."

Ezra glanced at Sabine, and she guessed his thoughts. They hadn't anticipated that docking would cost nearly as much as the attendant wanted, and five hundred credits was all that the Alliance had provided them. Ezra advanced toward the man, waving his fingers ever so slightly.

"Two-hundred-fifty credits will do fine," he said, his voice impartial and even. Sabine had seen Ezra use a Jedi mindtrick dozens of times, but they never ceased to fascinate her. The man stared for a moment, and Sabine expected to hear him echo her friend's words. He stared a moment longer, and then his lips curled into an unsettling smile. He raised a long-nailed finger, pointing it in Ezra's face.

"You're an odd one," he said, "Trying some sort of Jedi stunt."

Sabine stepped between them, sweeping her shawl to the side, just enough to reveal the twin blasters at her belt. She saw the man's eyes lock onto the weapons, which were of Mandalorian make. That alone caused him to back up a bit, and Sabine gave a passive-aggressive smile. "Three-hundreds credits and we'll have no problems," she said.

"Fine," the attendant said, sullenly accepting the payment, "But remember, we discourage off-worlders going any further than this spaceport, and absolutely no off-world crafts are allowed on the planet's surface."

"That wasn't a rule last time I was here," Sabine bluffed, hoping to make him recant the latter portion of his statement.

"Been that way for a while," the man said, "Imperial mandate."

Once they were a suitable distance from the hangar, Sabine leaned closed to Ezra and whispered, "Why didn't your mind trick work on that guy?"

"I'm not sure," Ezra responded, "It's like he was able to put up a mental wall or something."

Then, the thought occurred to Sabine. "He was probably Anzati," she said, "Maybe he was using some sort of telepathy?"

"It's possible," Ezra said, "That doesn't bode well for this mission, though, if mind tricks won't work on the locals."

The pair stopped beneath a sign, which read _Maggot's Cantina_. Orange-hued artificial light, t'bac smoke, and raucous voices streamed from the wide doorway. Two stories high, the cantina was impressive in relation to the size of the spaceport itself. The clientele was pretty much exactly what Sabine expected, and in this seedy setting, she felt oddly at home. She and Ketsu had spent so much time in cantinas all around the galaxy, during her bounty hunting days, and she knew how to handle herself in such an environment. Sabine took a seat at the long bar, and Ezra situated himself beside her. The bartender approached them, a large Devaronian fellow with a row of earrings glinting in the low light. "What are you drinking?" he asked tersely.

"Corellian brandy," Sabine responded, sliding a few credits across the bar's slick surface.

The bartender turned his gaze on Ezra, and Sabine nudged him under the bar. "Uh, I'll have the same," he said.

As the bartender left to get their drinks, Ezra whispered, "Jedi really aren't supposed to drink."

"Someone must have forgotten to tell Kanan," Sabine responded wryly. Then, she said in business-like tone, "It's a cover. You'll stick out like a sore thumb if you don't order something."

When the bartender returned with two glasses of Corellian brandy, Sabine asked, "Do you know of anyone who would be willing to take us to the surface?"

"There's a public transport, but you just missed it. You'll have to wait six more hours," the man responded, "Are you sure you really want to go to the surface?"

"Yes," Sabine responded flatly, and the bartender went to attend to other customers. Just as Sabine downed her glass of brandy, she noticed the woman to her right, staring at her with heavily made-up eyes. Sabine turned, meeting the woman's gaze.

"You need a pilot?" She asked, in the rough voice of a t'bac smoker.

"Yeah," Sabine answered, "How much?"

"Just down to the surface? Hundred creds," she answered. Ezra got out of his seat and stood beside Sabine, in order to hear the conversation over the pulsating music. The woman swept an admiring gaze over Ezra's muscular form, and she smiled suggestively. "Fifty, if he's with you. You want a drink, baby?"

A sense of breathlessness overcame Sabine, and she felt her blood begin to heat up. She suddenly detested the sight of their would-be pilot. Deep down, Sabine knew exactly why she felt this way, but she pretended she did not. She slid her arm through Ezra's, in a gesture of possession. _I'm doing him a favor, that's all_ , she told herself. Sabine smiled insincerely at the woman. "He _is_ with me, and we'll take the public transport, thank you."

"Suit yourself," the woman responded. As the two rebels exited the cantina, Sabine glanced over her shoulder to see Ezra's admirer wink in the Jedi's direction, and Sabine decided to keep her arm hooked in Ezra's until they were out of her sight. Sabine looked over to see Ezra grinning, holding back laughter.

"What's so funny?" she asked, more irritated than she cared to admit.

"Nothing," he responded.

Sabine let go of his arm, quickening her walk so that she was a pace or two ahead of him. "Well, I guess we had better find that transport, then."

* * *

 **Mando'a words...**

 _Manda_ -The Mandalorian over spirit, a sort of afterlife, accessible only by those who closely follow the _Resol'nare_.

 _Resol'nare_ -Literally translates into basic as "Six Actions." These include wearing armor, speaking _Mando'a_ , defending your family, raising your children as Mandalorians, contributing to your clan, and always being ready to defend your leader. Those who do not follow these guidelines are considered _dar'manda_ , meaning soulless.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N Hey guys! Thanks for all the positive feedback. I tried to message those of you with accounts, but to my lovely guests: Thank you! Spartan-104, I have woven a physical description of Ezra into this chapter. Thank you for the constructive criticism.**

 **Oh, and after watching "A Princess on Lothal," I have seen an influx of Ezra/Leia shippers. I have a ship name for Leia and Ezra… It's called "No." What does that make Sabine? Or our good buddy, Han? I just don't like it, and didn't get those vibes from the episode, either. I'm not even going to apologize, because you did walk into an Ezrabine story. ;)**

 **Without further ado...**

 _Travel Companions_ , Chapter Two

The transport was crowded with bodies, illuminated only by a flickering, dim light overhead. The musty odor of humanoids mingled with a metallic scent, but after being exposed to it for a prolonged period of time, Sabine was fairly used to the smell. The six hours had passed quickly, in which she and Ezra had filled the time by returning to _The Phantom_ to load two packs with the essentials, careful to avoid their "friend" at the dockingbay. Sabine was beginning to be able to tell which humanoids were actually Anzati, and of the transport's occupants, few were not native to the planet. The Anzati had a grayish tinge to their skin, Sabine noticed, and their eyes flickered with barely controlled primal urges. The more time Sabine spent among the species, the more it unnerved her to think that those around her saw her as a potential meal. As far as dying went, Sabine could not think of a worse fate than having her brain sucked out of her nostrils.

Most of the passengers were asleep, and although Sabine's body had not yet adjusted Anzat's timezone, she could guess that it was sometime during the night. The sound of snores was nearly drowned out by the roar of the transport's ancient engines, and Sabine allowed the consistent noise to soothe her. Still, sitting against the transport wall, her knees drawn to her chest, she could not coax her mind to enter into sleep. Sometime during her bounty hunting days, she had picked up the habit of always keeping one eye open, and now she cursed this trait. She envied Ezra: His Force abilities allowed him to fall asleep and awaken whenever he pleased. In their small space beneath the porthole window, Ezra had found just enough room to lie down, his body inches from hers.

The Jedi Knight did not look like a warrior, in that moment. He did not look like a vital member of the Rebel Alliance, one of the last hopes for the mystical Jedi. Without the stress of war weighing on his mind, Sabine could see echoes of the boy from Lothal in his features. Sabine was caught off guard in this quiet moment, and a thought that she hoped to avoid slipped into her head. She tried not to dwell on it, but she knew that the Jedi Knight cared deeply for her. In their youth, Ezra was ostentatious about his attraction to her, and Sabine resented him for it. His clumsy attempts at wooing her faded with time, but Sabine knew that his feelings had not dulled. Now, he conveyed his feelings in the subtlest of ways, and if she had not known him since she was sixteen, she would not have been able to pick up on these minute gestures. They never spoke of it, and Sabine was glad. Her friendship with Ezra was easily her most valuable relationship, and he was one of the few people in her life that she was certain trusted her without reservation. Sabine was terrified of losing him.

Sabine was aware of his feelings, but what of her own? Ezra was a far cry from the impetuous kid on Lothal, wrestling with Zeb and trying to avoid Jedi training. He had become someone that Sabine respected and admired, and she had grown to genuinely enjoy his company. When she assessed their relationship, she saw a perfect partnership: Two individuals who moved in sync on and off of the battlefield, making up for the other's weaknesses. It was the sort of connection that she had seen before, in Kanan and Hera. There was a key difference, however: Kanan and Hera were lovers, and she and Ezra were merely friends. Sabine could not imagine her life without Ezra, and she never wanted to jeopardize their friendship. She pretended that the thought of any other woman with Ezra didn't make her blood run cold, and the thought of him looking at another woman the way he looked at her didn't make her feel as though she had just been hit in the stomach.

Sitting in the quiet transport, a strange sense of loneliness overcame Sabine. On a sudden impulse, she reached out a tentative hand, barely tracing the twin scars that ran across his cheek with her fingertips. The scars were reminders of the first Inquisitor, a fearsome creature who was defeated by Ezra and Kanan several years prior. Sabine could not imagine her friend without them, and she actually liked his imperfections. They told a story, differentiating him from the glossy, clone-like men in holozines.

Tall, thin and sinewy, with brilliantly blue eyes and endearingly messy hair, there was no denying that Ezra was visually appealing. Sabine was reminded of the woman in the spaceport cantina, who clearly agreed. Resentment bubbled up in the young Mandalorian at the memory, and her face began to feel hot. Recklessly, she laid her palm against Ezra's clean-shaven cheek, and he stirred. Sabine pulled her hand back, startled.

Sabine folded her arms across her chest, pretending that the moment had not passed between them. She snuck a glance back at Ezra, who was still fast asleep. A sense of relief overcame her senses, but she still chided herself. She was only caught up in emotions that served no purpose, and she was not doing herself any favors by dwelling on them. Critics had called her cold and heartless, and Sabine would live up to every word. Deep down, she knew this knee-jerk reaction was a defense mechanism, but what was so wrong with that? She looked around the transport, searching for a distraction, anything to keep her from having to deal with the feelings that were quietly bubbling in her chest.

Sabine's gaze fell on the porthole window, and ethereal lights danced across Anzat's surface. These were luminous gases in planet's atmosphere, Sabine knew. While the planet itself was legendary amongst bounty hunters throughout the galaxy, the lights were famous around the intergalactic art community, and Sabine had seen at least half a dozen depictions of them. These renditions did not do them justice. They shimmered, almost like the wings of a diathim, angelic creatures which dwelled on the moons of Iego. The opalescent colors made Sabine's breath catch, and she tried to capture the scene in her mind's eye. _Too bad Senator Organa wouldn't let me wear my armor_ , Sabine thought, _I could have really used my holo-imager right now_. When she returned to Yavin 4 and her art supplies, she wanted to try to immortalize the lights in paint.

As she admired Anzat's natural wonders, Sabine felt a sense of unease overcome her, making her skin prickle and her breath quicken. Intuitively, she knew that someone watching her, and trying to appear casual, she swept her gaze around the transport. The floor was a jumble of monochromatic limbs, bathed in shadows. Her gaze connected with two bloodshot, sunken eyes, and a shudder ran down her spine. They belonged to a hulking Devaronian, sitting sullenly near the front end of the transport. Judging by his attire and demeanor, Sabine guessed that he was likely a smuggler or bounty hunter. Their eyes locked, and Sabine raised her eyebrows challengingly. The Devaronian's gaze flicked away, but Sabine still felt unsettled. Could the man have recognized the pair of rebels, despite their nondescript attire? Sabine had seen her face on Imperial wanted holocasts dozens of times, but she had never been recognized by a private citizen. Before Sabine could think on it any longer, Ezra awoke.

"Hey," he said, sitting up, his voice thick and soft with sleep, "Did I miss anything?"

"Only that creep over there watching us," Sabine answered, indicating the man with her gaze. Ezra closed his eyes, a look of concentration coming over his features, and Sabine knew that he was probing the man's intentions through the Force. After a moment, Ezra's eyes opened, and he twisted his mouth to the side, an expression that Sabine recognized as frustration. "What?" Sabine asked.

Ezra sighed. "The Force is shrouded in this strange sound, and it keeps breaking my concentration. It sounds like a hundred voices, but none of them are speaking words."

"Before we left the Alliance, I was given a holodisk on Anzat," Sabine said, "It said that the natives believe that upon death, their souls join an overspirit which manifests as a wordless voice, which they call the 'Silent Voices.' The holodisk said that it was only a folktale, meant to explain the luminous gases in the planet's atmosphere." Sabine pointed to the porthole window, and Ezra followed the line of her finger.

"Maybe Force users can pick up on this 'Silent Voice'," Ezra theorized, staring at the pulsating lights, "Do you hear anything?"

"Nothing," Sabine answered, giving up after a moment of straining her ears, "Will the sound inhibit your use of the Force?"

"Maybe," Ezra said, then added ruefully, "If so, I'll be a lot less useful. Bet you're wishing you brought Leia or Zeb instead of me, right about now."

"Nonsense," Sabine reassured him, butting her shoulder against his, "Without you, who else can I blame if the mission goes south?"

Ezra smiled, and Sabine felt a tiny, warm flicker in her chest. "Do you mind if I try meditating?" he asked.

"Go ahead," Sabine answered, "Just be subtle. I don't want to draw any more attention to us." As Ezra meditated, Sabine untied her hair from the knot it had been in, and laid on her side, closing her eyes. It was not until then that she realized how tired she was, and as she listened to the measured cadence of her friend's breathing, sleep found her.

* * *

Bearing two cups of steaming caf, Ezra returned to the table nestled in the back corner of Anzat City's only diner. Sabine was projecting a wavering blue form from the holoprojector on her gauntlet, and Ezra instantly recognized Hera.

"He's back," Sabine informed their mentor, her chin resting in her hand.

" _Hi, Ezra_ ," Hera said, in her comforting, familiar voice. Ezra slid into the booth beside Sabine, so he could be in the Twi'lek's line of sight. That, and he wanted to sit near a certain Mandalorian.

"We had to leave _The Phantom_ at the spaceport," Sabine told Hera, continuing a conversation that the two women must have begun in his absence, "Apparently, they don't allow offworld crafts on the surface anymore. Other than that, we made it here without complication."

" _Good. I'll let Senator Organa know_ ," Hera answered. Then, she added, " _Take care of each other… Anzat is bad business. Promise me_?"

"Yes, Mom," Sabine groaned, and Ezra nodded in agreement.

Hera laughed at the moniker, and asked, " _Ezra? How are you holding up_?"

"Fine," he answered, swallowing a sip of his drink, "Although this may be the worst caf in the Mid Rim."

" _If that's the worst of your problems, it's a relief_ ," Hera said, " _Contact me when you find Senator Cadaman. Spectre 2 out_."

Sabine closed out the hologram, and leaned back against faded upholstery of the booth. "Well, let me try some of this 'worst caf in the Mid Rim.'"

"What do you think of the architecture?" Ezra asked, glancing around the diner. All of the buildings on Anzat were carved into the sides of the craggy, gray mountains which littered the surface of the planet. This one just so happened to be a diner on the first floor, and an inn on the upper layer. Firelight flickered against the roughly-hewn walls, giving the illusion of warmth, when in actuality, the space was drafty and damp.

"Architecture is not really my thing," Sabine said, "But it's interesting. I heard that the primitive Anzati have been using rock shelters for a millennia, at least… I hope we'll see some of their cave paintings. They're almost a thousand years old, and still relatively untouched by the outside world."

"I'm not surprised," Ezra answered, popping open a ration packet, "Anzat doesn't exactly have a booming tourism industry."

Suddenly, a streak of startled fear sliced through the Force around Ezra, which was still abuzz with the Silent Voices. He looked at Sabine, but her gaze was already locked on a figure approaching their isolated table: It was the Devaronian from the transport, and this time, he was flanked by two others of his same species. As their leader slid into the bench opposite the two rebels, Sabine nudged Ezra under the table, which he interpreted as her way of saying _Let me handle this one_. Quietly, Ezra began to gather the Force within him, in case the situation required it.

"Can I help you?" Sabine asked, her voice relaxed, but her eyes intense.

"Maybe," the man answered, grinning to reveal yellow teeth, "Where might you two kids be from?"

"Tatooine," Sabine lied, without missing a beat.

"You're awfully far from home, then," he responded.

"I could say the same to you," Sabine countered, "Devaron's in the Outer Rim."

"Tatooine," he said, more to himself than to them. Lazily crossing his arms behind his head, he continued, "Who would have thought? Because by looking at the boy, I would have said Lothal."

Ezra felt Sabine's heart skip a beat, and beneath the table, he saw her raise one of her blasters. The Devaronian noticed, too, and grinned even wider. "I wouldn't do that, sweetheart. You see, my name's Uruk Jahr, and I'm a bounty hunter by trade."

"So was I, once," Sabine answered coolly, "So don't call me 'sweetheart.'"

Jahr looked at one of his henchman and laughed. Ezra could feel tension building in the air, and he sensed the wheels in Sabine's head turning, as she prepared to act. He subtly drew his own weapon, inhaling deeply, preparing to call upon the Force. As he did this, Jahr fixed them with a cold glare. "So, Commander Wren, Master Bridger, will I be delivering you both to The Empire dead or-"

Before he could finish, Sabine flipped the table, sending cups of caf flying and distracting the bounty hunters. In the confusion, the two rebels retreated towards the back of the room, employing another upturned table as cover. By this time, Jahr had drawn his own weapon, directing a series of well-aimed shots in the direction of Sabine and Ezra. With one shot, Sabine dropped one of the bounty hunter's underlings, who was attempting to attack from the side, killing him. Ezra wished Sabine had not been shooting to kill, but trying to control a Mandalorian in the heat of a fight was like trying to make it snow on Lothal.

"Use your lightsaber!" Sabine commanded, ducking behind the table as a blaster bolt whizzed past her head, barely singeing her brightly-colored hair. She surfaced again, long enough to force Jahr and his remaining partner back a bit.

"Not unless I have to," Ezra answered, distracted. His eyes searched through the smoke, aided by the Force, until he saw the stairway which led to the second floor. Hurriedly, he exclaimed, "I have an idea. Cover us."

Crouching low, Ezra took Sabine's hand and pulled her towards the stairway. "Are you crazy?" Sabine cried, dodging blaster fire, "We'll be trapped up there!"

"Trust me," Ezra responded, as they reached the first step. Using the Force, he drew a large table in front of them, hopefully slowing the two remaining bounty hunters for a little bit. The rebels reached the second floor, which consisted of a lone hallway, an open window at the end.

"It's a dead end," Sabine exclaimed, dismayed. Ezra was already leading her towards the large window. He stepped up onto the the ledge, and Sabine followed suit.

"Do you trust me?" Ezra asked, regarding her with serious eyes.

"Of course," Sabine answered, and by this time, she knew what he was planning. As she looked out, her eyes searching in vain for the ground, he heard her whisper some sort of Mandalorian expletive. Drawing on the Force to cushion their fall, Ezra grabbed Sabine and leapt out of the window and into the cold night air.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N Hey guys! I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, and I hope you have as much fun reading it. Thank you for the reviews, it really means alot to me! You guys have some really interesting and thought-provoking commentary, and I like writing to a crowd like you guys. Keep being fabulous.**

 **To the person who asked if the window jump bit was a reference to Aladdin: Not intentionally, but it totally works! I've heard Ezra being referred to as "Space Aladdin" before. Or it may be the subliminal effect of this hellish play of _Arabian Nights_ that I made the mistake of being in, and ended up getting the genie. Debuting in May, it's going to suck. Yes, I dabble in theater (I particularly like to brag about playing Golde in _Fiddler On The Roof, Jr._ a while back). Now, off this bunny trail and onto what you good people came here for.**

 **Mando'a words are at the end, as usual.**

* * *

 _Travel Companions_ , Chapter Three

They hit the ground rolling, and though Ezra's body absorbed most of the impact, Sabine still felt as though the air had been knocked out of her lungs. They finally lost momentum at the edge of a crude road, Sabine sprawled on top of Ezra. Sticky blood ran between her fingers, and she could not tell if it were Ezra's or her own. She was stuck in a hazy stupor for a moment, the starless sky throbbing and spinning above her.

"I'm so sorry," Ezra said, sitting up, "Are you okay?" Sabine was suddenly acutely aware of the fact that she was essentially in the Jedi's lap, and despite her aching head and bruised back, she scrambled to a standing position. Even in the yellowish lighting of the streetlamps, Sabine could see a ruddy color creeping into Ezra's cheeks.

"Did you even try to use the Force?" Sabine asked sarcastically, steadying herself against the nearest lamppost. A look of hurt came into Ezra's eyes for half a moment, and Sabine instantly regretted her previous statement. Before she could speak, however, she heard a shout from the upper level of the building. She looked around wildly, hoping to find a means of escape, and her gaze connected with a speeder bike, haphazardly chained to a post.

"There," she said, pointing, "Let's take it."

Ezra's azure lightsaber blade burned against the dark sky as he sliced through the chain. In that moment, Sabine was immensely glad that she had chosen the former street kid as her partner for this particular mission: Some members of the Alliance would not be as readily willing to steal for the sake of this mission. In terms of morality, Sabine was often at odds with many in the Alliance, but rarely with Ezra. Neither had any qualms about stealing for the sake of the Alliance, and both viewed orders as negotiable. These similarities made them a dangerous combination, as Organa and Mon Mothma had pointed out when Sabine put in her request for Ezra to accompany her to Anzat. Sabine did not mind her status as maverick within the Rebel Alliance; in fact, she embraced it. No matter how often Hera or Ezra tried to reassure her, she never warmed up to the idea of an organized, militaristic order. After her experiences at the Imperial Academy on _Manda'yaim_ , she learned that trust could not be distributed too liberally.

Sabine leapt onto the bike, the engines roaring to life as Ezra climbed on behind her, holding onto her waist with one arm. As they sped off in the direction of the treeline, the only light came from Ezra's lightsaber and the small bulb affixed to the front of the speeder bike. Once inside the forest, the Jedi had to use his foresight to help her avoid the trees, which flew past at a terrifying rate.

Suddenly, a blaster bolt whizzed past, hitting the trunk of a tree beside them. Ezra let go of Sabine, turning around and using Force-enhanced balance to stand precariously on the back of the craft. He deflected a shot, red blaster bolt meeting blue 'saber. Without Ezra's Force abilities, Sabine had to rely on her own average eyesight in the darkness, swerving sharply as she narrowly avoided a large tree. Ezra just barely caught himself.

"Fly steady!" He exclaimed over the shrill, sharp noise of lightsaber countering blaster bolt.

"I'm doing the best I can," Sabine answered, irritated. In her peripheral vision, she saw another speeder, being flown by Uruk Jahr. He rammed his craft against theirs, nearly knocking Ezra off balance before swerving away to avoid a tree. Taking her eyes off of their path for half a second, Sabine drew one of her blasters and fired at the speeder. The Devaronian returned fire, which was once again deflected by the Jedi. A bolt nearly hit her head, but Ezra caught in just in time. As they raced through the trees, small branches tore at Sabine's hair and clothes, and stung her face. Jahr approached again, so close that Sabine could see his gold earring glinting.

"Can you focus on flying?" Ezra asked, as Sabine steered the speeder with one hand, the other focusing fire on Jahr.

"Can you take care of him, then?" Sabine snapped back, ducking out of the path of a bolt of energy that had somehow made it past the Jedi's defenses.

"Whatever you say," Ezra answered, with a grin that harkened back to his clumsy attempts at flirtation back on Lothal, "I'll be right back." With that, he called on the Force to aid him as he leapt off of their speeder and onto Jahr's vehicle.

"I didn't mean-" Sabine began, but he was already gone. " _Idiot_ ," she muttered. The blue glow of his weapon had disappeared through the trees, and another light took it's place: The headlight of the other bounty hunter's speeder. Glancing behind her, Sabine was relieved to see that the craft did not seem to be equipped with front guns, and so the man was limited to his own blaster. However, rather than using firepower, the bounty hunters was holding a battered, rusty staff, a blade affixed to the end, which was sharpened to a vicious point. Sabine gunned her engines, not wanting to come in contact with the gruesome weapon, but the enemy speeder quickly caught up to her. Sabine desperately wished she had been allowed to wear her armor, as the meager light caught the chipped, red-crusted edge of the blade. The Devaronian leered at her, and Sabine stared back in cool defiance. Her heart sank as they entered a narrow stretch of clearing, as she was hoping that the trees might block at least some of his attacks.

"Might want to clean your 'weapon' every once and awhile, _di'kut_ ," Sabine called.

"Why should I," he responded, "When I'll only have to clean it again when I'm done with you and your Jedi?"

He swung the staff at her like a scythe, in a strong, swooping motion. Sabine ducked as the blade whistled above her head: If her reflexes had been any slower, her head would have tumbled to the forest floor. Thinking quickly, Sabine's hand shot out, catching the staff just below the blade, before the bounty hunter could take a second swipe at her. She held it with a steely grip, letting go of her speeder's controls for just a moment in order to fire a shot into the engines of the enemy speeder with her other hand. They had reached the edge of the clearing, and Sabine was forced to release the staff seconds before the trees whizzed between them.

Reaching into her pouch, Sabine's free hand wrapped around a thermal detonator, one of her own design. Thinking quickly, she slammed on her breaks, and before the man realized it, she was behind him. She tossed the thermal detonator, and it hit the back of the bounty hunter's speeder, the explosion fuschia and gold against the steel gray sky. Unfortunately, Sabine did not have long to enjoy the colors before she had to swerve to avoid another tree.

The engine of the craft was damaged, hot embers glowing red and sending tiny sparks to the forest floor. Jahr's underling abandoned his staff at this point, and blinded by rage, he began to rain blasterfire on her. A lucky shot knocked one of Sabine's blasters out of her hand, causing her fingers to sting and burn.

" _Haar'chak_ ," Sabine muttered, looking futilely for her blaster as the ground raced beneath her. She unsheathed her other blaster, firing three shots in rapid succession at the engine of the Devaronian's speeder. Now, flames leapt from the back of the craft, and Sabine watched with dark enjoyment as the bounty hunter lost control and collided with a tree trunk. Sabine slammed on her breaks, so that she would not be caught in the flames.

Suddenly, the forest was silent, and Sabine noticed the dusty gray lighting of early morning. Panting, adrenaline still coursing through her body, she looked around: Sturdy, ancient-looking trees grew around the occasional thicket of what appeared to be bamboo. Some ways ahead, mountains rose towards the early morning sky, their edges made feathery through the mist. A few yards away, Sabine saw her other blaster, glinting in a pile of red-hued leaves. She strained her ears, listening for the sound of blaster fire, Ezra's lightsaber, the engines of a speeder-but she heard nothing. Sabine caught her breath, sick worry gathering in the pit of her stomach. Either Ezra or Jahr was dead, and she desperately hoped it was the latter. Firing up her speeder's engines again, Sabine sped off in the direction where she and partner had separated.

* * *

Fear sliced through the Force, causing the soft, heaviness in Ezra's head to dissipate. It took him a minute to recall where he was: Anzat. He had fallen off of… a speeder?...Jahr's speeder! His eyes flew open, but instead of seeing the horned figure of his opponent, he saw Sabine leaning over him, trees above encircling her head like a halo. She was an ethereal sight, the early morning light casting a glimmering sheen over her auburn and dark blue hair. Loosened from its knot during the fight, it dusted her perfectly-curved collar bone, and though smeared with dirt and blood, her skin seemed to softly glow. For a moment, Ezra wondered if he were dead and had awoken to an angel.

"Hey," Sabine said, her features taut with worry, "Are you okay?"

"I think so," Ezra answered, as Sabine helped him to sit up. She sighed, but fear still radiated off of her Force presence, perhaps disproportionate to the situation. Ezra was surprised, but by no means disatisfied.

"Were you hit?" Sabine asked, her business-like tone in sharp contrast to the emotions that she was projecting through the Force.

"No, I just hit my head," Ezra responded, "All I remember is falling off of Jahr's speeder, and then this."

"You're cut up pretty bad," Sabine commented, gently taking his face in her hands, studying him. The feeling of her soft skin against his cheek soothed him, and he reveled in the feeling, almost forgetting the pain that seized the back of his skull. He touched his forehead, and his fingers came back bloody. He suddenly noticed that his forehead stung like fire. "I'll clean that up," Sabine said reassuringly. She stood, walking back to the speeder to retrieve the med kit in her pack. She looked around. "Where is Jahr?"

"I don't know," Ezra answered.

Sabine whirled around, frustration taking the place of worry in her Force signature. "You didn't kill him?"

"I didn't have the chance," Ezra exclaimed, "Not before I fell." He could tell that Sabine wanted to hound him over his shortcoming, but he knew she would not make him defend himself while he was injured.

"That will be a problem for us later," Sabine commented, sighing. She slid her arm around him, placing his arm over her shoulder. "He'll probably be back any minute. I'll clean your cut later. Come on, I've got to get you out of here."

Supported by Sabine, Ezra made his way to the speeder. After helping him to sit, Sabine went to the back of the vehicle and began to dig in their pack.

"What are you doing?" Ezra asked, confused.

Sabine smiled, her irritation fading. "You'll see." She pulled out a thermal detonator, one of her own design, complete with a checkered dejarik pattern painted on its matte exterior.

"Force help us," Ezra muttered, upon seeing the explosive. _How typical of her_.

"Relax!" she said. She wound up, then pitched the detonator as far as she could. It sailed over the treetops, exploding a ways away. A thin, steady curl of smoke rose towards the quickly-approaching storm clouds.

"Jahr will be tracking us," Sabine explained, climbing onto the speeder in front of him, "He will be looking for traces of a camp. He will think that the smoke from the detonator is a campfire, and by the time he reaches it, we will be long gone in the other direction."

"That's pretty smart, Sabine," Ezra said, reminded of her military genius.

She shrugged modestly. "A little trick I learned from Ketsu. Now, let's get out of here."

* * *

"Do you remember Lando?" Sabine asked, not glancing up from the small fire she was tending, but Ezra could see a teasing light in her eyes through her thick lashes. _Here we go_ , Ezra thought.

"How could I forget him?" Ezra responded, rolling his eyes. The two rebels had finally set up camp around six clicks away from where Sabine had found Ezra. Now, beneath a spreading tree, they had taken shelter from a misting rain. The large, spear-shaped leaves caught most of the precipitation, but a bit of water made it through, making Sabine's paltry fire hiss. She had insisted that he rest, and Ezra knew better than to resist her. He propped himself up against the russet-colored trunk, bacta patch over the large gash on his brow.

"He knew so much about art," Sabine said, in a way that made it sound like she was talking to herself, but Ezra knew that she was being deliberate. She was taking advantage of his incapacitated state now, he realized wryly. She like to tease him, and he did not mind at all. It was such a normal aspect of their relationship that Ezra was nearly desensitized to it. He recalled a day when another rebel and casual friend, a fellow by the name of Wedge Antilles commented on it, asking what Ezra had done that was so special to garner the attention of the otherwise icy Mandalorian. Ezra was a little surprised, answering modestly that she was just like that when she was at ease. But as Wedge pointed out: why was Sabine so at ease around him, and only him? The line between teasing and flirting was unclear. Ezra often wondered why she particularly enjoyed seeing him jealous, and he decided to do a little experiment.

"He was awfully good-looking for a smuggler…" Sabine went on, digging amongst their belongings, and surfacing with a ration pack. She tossed it to him, and he caught it deftly.

"Agreed," Ezra responded, "And you know who else is surprisingly attractive?"

"Who?" Sabine asked, caught off-guard.

"The Princess," Ezra answered slowly, making sure Sabine absorbed his words, "She was a gangly girl a while back, but now she had blossomed into a beautiful young lady."

Sabine was silent for a minute, eyeing him critically. "You think so?" she asked, "What do you like about her?"

"Her hair, her eyes…" He said, then added slyly, "Her figure."

Sabine opened her mouth to say something, probably to object, but then shut it abruptly. Her demeanor changed, and she leaned back against the tree, giving him a side-smile. "I guess good old Ladies' Man Ezra is back."

 _Karabast_ , Ezra thought, using an expletive appropriated from Zeb, _She always wins_. Just thinking back on the ungainly way he had tried to woo her in their youth was embarrassing enough, and realizing that Sabine hadn't forgotten about it, either was enough to make him cringe. Ezra tried to raise an eyebrow at her, forgetting about the cut on his forehead.

"Ow," he mumbled, raising his hand to readjust the bacta patch, which was beginning to peel away from his skin. Just like old times-looking like an idiot in front of his first love.

"Let me help you with that," Sabine said, teasing tone replaced with a gentler one. She ran her fingers along the edges of the patch, sealing it against his skin. Her hands were cold, and tiny droplets of water formed on the ends of her glistening hair. When she spoke, a tiny cloud formed from between her perfectly-shaped lips.

"Are you cold?" Ezra asked, suddenly feeling bad for not noticing earlier. He began to remove his cloak, intent on giving it her, but she either didn't notice or pretended she hadn't seen his gesture.

"I'm fine," Sabine said quickly. She went back to working on her fire, her back to him. Ezra closed his eyes, his head aching. The Silent Voices didn't help, constantly ringing in his ears. He wondered how the native Anzati could stand it, and he could only hope it would improve with time.

"Your fire will never stay lit," Ezra called.

"I know," Sabine said, finally resigned. She opened her pack, taking out a neatly-folded blanket and another portion of rations. She sat beside him, spreading the slightly damp blanket over both of their laps. Their closeness was only out of necessity, Ezra knew, but he could not help enjoying being so close to Sabine. A silence fell between them, which emphasized the sound of the cold rain. Small streams of water trickled down the trunks of the surrounding trees, darkening the rough bark. Such a stream ran down Ezra's back, causing him to shudder.

"This place is pretty miserable," Ezra commented, pulling the blanket up to his chest, and consequently, up to Sabine's chin.

Sabine nodded. "After this mission, I'm taking a leave of absence and going somewhere nice."

"Really?" Ezra asked, glancing over at her in surprise.

"No," Sabine answered, "But it makes me feel better to say so."

"Let's plan it," Ezra suggested, "Even if we only ever talk about it."

"Okay," Sabine answered with a shrug, "Why not?"

Ezra looked out into the rain, and was struck with an idea. "How about somewhere snowy?" he suggested, "Senator Chuchi would probably let us stay on her homeworld, Pantora."

"I said somewhere _nice_ ," Sabine retorted, "Somewhere warm…"

"Lothal is warm," Ezra pointed out, feeling pride for his home planet.

"I've spent enough time there," Sabine responded, "No offense, Loth-rat."

Ezra elbowed her, and she laughed. He liked the sound of her laughter-so carefree, a side of her that was entirely unknown to most of the Alliance. They only saw Sabine Wren, the warrior. "Naboo?" Ezra asked, remembering their conversation aboard _The Phantom_.

"Sure," Sabine said, a faraway look in her eyes, "I've always wanted to go, ever since I was a little girl."

"Tell me about it," Ezra requested, digging in his ration packet.

"Well," Sabine began. Ezra was eager to lose himself in her words, as the artist described what she saw in her mind's eye. It was a rare glimpse into her psyche, and Ezra treasured it. "Well, it's in the Mid Rim, so it's not far from here. It's the homeworld of one of my favorite artists, Palo. He painted the lake country in oils. His renditions of the landscape are so… So carefree, so naturalistic, so pastoral. It's like nothing bad could ever happen there. There are meadows, lush and green, and sparkling lakes, and velvety blue skies."

"It sounds like heaven," Ezra said. He wasn't referring to the landscape, however, but the company.

"I'll paint the landscape and you can meditate. The setting will lend itself well to both," Sabine said, suddenly swept up in the picture, "And we can swim in the lakes. It's been forever since I swam."

"Who gets to come with us?" Ezra asked.

"Not Chopper," both rebels said in unison.

"No Kanan," Ezra said, "He will nag me about my Jedi duties the whole time. Zeb?"

Sabine shook her head. "We'll have to pass on him," she answered, "I want to smell the fresh, green earth, not the smell of Lasat."

"Hera isn't spontaneous enough," Ezra reasoned, "She won't be up for anything on short notice. Besides, she won't go without Kanan."

"I guess that just leaves us," Sabine said absently. After this statement, the mood suddenly changed. Sabine flicked a glance at him, and their eyes met. It seemed as though the small space between them was suddenly weighted with something unspoken, and she blinked at him, almost as though she had never seen him before. It was then that Ezra noticed that their arms were touching, and neither had done anything to prevent it. Her amber-colored eyes held his own blue pair, and Ezra felt almost as though he were falling into her gaze, and he did not want to resurface. She inhaled softly, and Ezra noticed how close his fingers were to hers. If he moved them ever so slightly... Suddenly, she looked directly out into the rain, purposefully cutting the moment short. "Well, it's all just fantasy, anyway," she said abruptly, "It's not like it's ever going to happen."

"You're right," Ezra answered softly, stunned by the moment that had just passed. _All just fantasy._

* * *

 ** _Mando'a_ Words…**

 ** _Di'kut_ -Idiot, moron, fool**

 ** _Haar'chak_ \- "Damn it!"**

 ** _Manda'yaim_ -The planet Mandalore**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N Hi, everyone! Thank you for your continued support. I messaged those of you with accounts, but thank you to my guests! Spartan-104, you always have an excellent understanding of my work, and I value your opinion. As for the Naboo fantasy, my lips are sealed… Azula, that's a clever insight, one I had never thought about before. Thank you for your kind words!**

 **Sorry for the late update. Someone in my family received a pretty bad diagnosis last week, and it put a damper on writing. I'm feeling a bit better about the situation now. Also, I think honesty is the best policy, so I just wanted to say that I struggle with depression, which sometimes affects my productivity, and this is one of those occasions. Don't worry about me, though, I have the tools to manage it.**

 **This chapter contains spoilers for Season 2, episode 5. I'm sure you've all already seen it, but heck, just in case. Mando'a words at the end. You guys know the drill.**

* * *

 _Travel Companions_ , Chapter Four

The sun was just rising, the trees slicing its rays into crisp, linear streams. They made Sabine's eyes sting, and she shifted so that a fat tree trunk blocked out the sun. Despite the dew, she had managed to build a small fire, and she briskly rubbed her hands above the jagged flames, her knuckles stiff with cold. She had already said her daily remembrances, albeit somewhat half-hearted due to the chill in her bones, and was now boiling water for some instant caf. It was a dependency she shared with Kanan, one she had picked up aboard _The Ghost_. She had insisted that it was absolutely an essential, despite Ezra's insistence that it took up too much room in their pack.

On the opposite side of the fire, her companion was curled beneath their blanket, so that only his dark hair stuck out, looking almost midnight blue in the early morning light. They had slept in shifts, Ezra taking first watch. At the halfway point of the night, Sabine assumed her assigned vigil, tracing patterns in the dirt just to stay awake. Her bones ached from sleeping on the ground, and though her mind was alert, she knew she would pay for the lack of sleep later. Still, she knew it would have been foolish to not keep watch, especially since she did not know if the Anzati were nocturnal. Also, there was the small problem of them only having one blanket, and…

Sabine poked the fire with a stick, trying to coax the flames from the ashes again. She was tempted to poke Ezra with her stick, in order to awaken him. She wanted to hear the sound of his voice, instead of the eerie, dripping forest noises. Sabine never liked forests: The branches overhead almost felt like a skeletal hand, tightening its fingers around her from above, obscuring the sun. She could never shake the feeling that she was being watched-after all, there were plenty of places for someone to hide. Sabine hated places that seemed enclosed, perhaps due to growing up in the domed city of Sundari on _Manda'yaim_.

While waiting for the water to boil, Sabine raked a brush through her hair. As she tore through the knots, she longed for the days when she wore her hair cropped-in recent years, she had allowed it to reach her shoulders. She had lopped it off soon after leaving the Academy, where she was required to have hair that was long enough to secure in a neat bun at the nape of her neck, as were all female cadets. After breaking out of the Academy, Ketsu had opted to shave her head entirely, but Sabine rebelled in her own way-dying her hair with shocking colors, in stark contrast to the boring monochromes of the Imperial regime. Sabine was about to tie her hair off in a knot, but decided to braid it around her hairline for a change of pace, a style she had seen Leia sporting in the past.

A muffled voice came from beneath the blanket. "Taking fashion lessons from the Princess, I see," Ezra said.

"Hi," Sabine said, without enthusiasm, before adding, "Since when do you pay attention to how Leia wears her hair?"

Ezra just grinned and propped himself up on his elbow, and Sabine was reminded of their conversation the previous day. She eyed him shrewdly, trying to see if he were indeed serious. Again, she toyed with the idea of stabbing him with her fire stick. The young Jedi sat up, blanket falling from his shoulders. He did not have the presence of mind to bring a razor, and his stubble made his eyes even more piercingly blue. To a girl who loved color, this was significant. Sabine stared at the fire, uncharacteristically shy. Surely, he wasn't really interested in Leia? She knew they were good friends, but they couldn't be more than that, could they?

Ezra ran his hands through his wavy hair, and Sabine watched it fall against his bronze cheekbones. "Did anything happen on your watch?"

"No," Sabine answered, finishing her braided halo, "How about yours?"

Ezra stood, joining her beside the fire and helping himself to her pot of boiling water. "Uneventful," he answered, tearing open a caf pack and pouring the contents into his cup, "Except you were talking in your sleep."

Sabine was alarmed. "What… What was I saying?"

"I don't know," Ezra responded, "It sounded like Mando'a to me."

"Oh," Sabine answered, relieved. She took a sip of her caf too quickly and burned her tongue. Ezra pulled on his boots and walked to their speeder, rummaging through their packs in search of food. "You should probably grab a new bacta patch for your forehead," Sabine called, but Ezra did not answer. His gaze was fixated on the bike itself.

"Sabine," he said, "I think the fuel lines have been cut." She stood, hurrying over to the craft. Sure enough, the fuel lines had been severed, and there was a small lake of fuel amongst the dead leaves. She must not have noticed it earlier, when she retrieved her caf before the sun rose. Suddenly, she remembered Jahr's underling and his rusty spear for the previous day's battle.

" _Haar'chak_!" Sabine exclaimed, sitting back on her heels and letting out an exasperated breath, "That _chakaar_ must have cut our fuel lines yesterday."

"Can you fix it?" Ezra asked anxiously.

"Technically, yes," Sabine said, "But we will have to replace the fuel lines entirely. The good news is, we can probably get them in Karkko. The bad news is, Karkko is quite a few clicks out of our way, and it's not the safest place."

"What do you mean?" Ezra said, kneeling as well to survey the damage.

"It's a town controlled by a crime lord named Vilmarh Grahrk," Sabine explained, "We've met, believe it or not-me and Ketsu collected a bounty with him, once. He's not a terrible guy, but he loves creds above everything else. There's not guaranteeing he won't alert The Empire if he sees me."

Ezra shrugged. "We won't stay long. I don't see that we have much of a choice."

"Yeah," Sabine agreed, twisting her mouth in frustration. She stood. "Well, let's pack up, I guess."

"Don't worry," Ezra said reassuringly, "We've faced worse."

Frustrated by their misfortune, Sabine kicked the ground, sending a clump of leaves flying. Ezra looked up from folding their blanket. "Oh- Sabine? The braids look better on you than they do on Leia."

He went back to his packing, and did not get to see Sabine's smile.

* * *

The evening sun flirted with the western horizon as the rebels reached their destination, turning the sky from orange to plum to velvety black. Before long, the iridescent lights would make their dramatic entrance into the atmosphere. Ezra glanced over at Sabine, and predictably, the artist was admiring the colors of the sunset. They cast a honey-colored glow over her, making the colorful strands of hair woven around her scalp glisten, and her skin look golden. For a moment, Ezra was completely swept up in her beauty.

When a rickety sign announcing their arrival in the town of Karkko came into view, Ezra was met with a feeling of relief. They had travelled all day, pushing the decommissioned speeder between them, and Ezra's feet began to ache in his Sullust leather boots. He was glad that they were going to repair the speeder: The trek was difficult enough for two young people, but it would have been nearly impossible for the elderly Senator Cadaman. They had agreed that he would probably rather have his rescue be delayed by a few days than make the journey back to Anzat City on foot. Hopefully, they could get the supplies needed to repair the speeder bike in Karkko.

Streetlights burst to life as the couple made their way down the main drag, a tightly-packed dirt road crowded with nightlife. Like Anzat City, Karkko's buildings were built into the side of a cliff, and the paint on their facades were chipped, revealing gray stone beneath. Ezra found that in these sort of seedy, lawless places, there was a certain mood that permeated Force. It wasn't one that he could put into words, but it sort of felt like despair and recklessness and mirth, all rolled into one. The street was alive with voices, speaking at least a dozen different languages, few of which he knew. Due to her time at the Academy, Sabine likely knew all of them. She had once told him that she felt like his Force abilities gave him an advantage over her, but as he pointed out, she had him beat in the category of linguistics.

From open doorways, scantily-clad women gazed out, their eyes thick with brightly-colored makeup. Throngs of bounty hunters and smugglers congregated on either side of the road, a rich-looking patron occasionally among them. Other figures went about their business, shoving past Sabine and Ezra on the narrow street. In this sort of town, when the sun went down, the day was just beginning. Ezra prodded the Force for Jahr's presence, but did not feel him in the immediate vicinity. He doubted that the bounty hunter, if he were still indeed on their trail, would have thought to search for them in Karkko, anyway. _It's too obvious_ , he surmised.

Ezra could hear their dwindling supply of credits jingling in Sabine's pouch, and he spoke up. "We'll need to steal some creds."

"Can't we just steal the parts?" Sabine asked.

Ezra shook his head. "Trust me, it will be much easier to get the creds." He surveyed the area, his gaze falling on a structure a few meters away from them. The word 'Cantina' was scrawled on a piece of wood and lazily affixed above the open doorway. "There," he said, pointing, "Hopefully the locals will be so drunk that they won't notice a few creds disappearing from their pockets."

Sabine looked unsure. "Okay," she said, "Just remember- _low profile_. That's an order."

"This is my specialty," Ezra reassured her, grinning.

Sabine did not look convinced, but she followed him into the cantina, after securing their speeder bike to a post. The interior was somehow more organic than Maggot's Cantina, the bar located in the orbiting spaceport. For one, it was devoid of the neon, artificial light, and for this, Ezra was glad. It was significantly easier to pickpocket in low lighting. Also, the floors and bar were made of sturdy redwood, likely sourced from the trees that grew in abundance on Anzat. The clientele was varied, although the gray-skinned civilized Anzati were the most prevalent. Not surprisingly, their primitive counterparts were not present. The space had an earthy smell: Wood, rock, and a whiff of spice. The latter scent reminded Ezra of his first mission with the rebellion, rescuing wookiees from the Spice Mines of Kessel. It was also the mission on which he had first become acquainted with Sabine.

Ezra leaned close to his companion and whispered, "Let's split up."

"Okay," Sabine responded, positioning herself at the corner of the long bar, which was made from a single slab of tree trunk. _No doubt ordering her shot of Corellian brandy_ , Ezra thought wryly. He gagged at the memory of the bitter, burning drink she had made him order at the spaceport. Cover or no cover, he would never drink a drop of the stuff again.

The former street kid decided to work the opposite end of the cantina. In some ways, it was refreshing to rely only on his wits again, not tapping into the mystical energy field of the Force. It felt good to be returning to such a familiar practice, and Ezra was hit with an unexpected wave of nostalgia. This damp, lawless cantina was a far cry from the Imperial-controlled streets of his desert homeworld, but the principles of his "trade" were the same. Even though it had been several years since Ezra pick-pocketed, he had not lost his touch. In a matter of minutes, he had lifted a handful of credits off of a wookiee and a high-and-mighty Core worlder, both of which never suspected a thing. He decided not to try any Anzati, recalling their telepathic abilities.

Ezra had just filched a few credits from a hapless Rodian when he decided to check in on Sabine. He slipped through the mass of bodies, which had grown more animated as the time passed and the drinks flowed more freely. He was a few meters away from the bar when he spotted his companion, partially obscured by a towering Trandoshan. Sabine was unaware of the man, who was situated directly behind her, his serpentine tongue flickering and his slitted pupils roaming her perfect figure hungrily. Ezra felt his temper flare, a heat beginning in his chest and rising to his head. In the back of his mind, he vaguely recalled some Jedi teaching about anger, but he disregarded it, striding through the crowd and shoving cantina patrons aside. He had nearly reached them when the Trandoshan extended a three-fingered hand, coarsely grabbing Sabine from behind. She whirled around, her surprise and outrage lighting up the Force, but before she could react, Ezra's clenched first connected with the Trandoshan's jaw, knocking the boorish creature to the floor.

The Trandoshan tried to stand, balling his own fists, but Ezra knocked him to the floor again. This time, a thin trickle of blood ran from the Trandoshan's mouth, bright red against his green skin. By this time, Sabine had grasped the situation. "Ezra!" She hissed, trying to save what little scrap of anonymity they had left, "What the hell happened to low-profile?"

In the split-second that Ezra glanced back at her, the Trandoshan raked his claws across Ezra's forearm, causing blood to appear on the surface of his skin. His opponent leapt to his feet, his eyes flickering with rage. By this time, the patrons' revels had stopped, and they gathered around, jeering and encouraging the fight. Ezra could sense Sabine's temper beginning to boil as a result of his actions, but his own anger overpowered his judgment. The Trandoshan launched himself at Ezra, but he foresaw the reptilian creature's movement through the Force and darted out of the way. The Trandoshan was met with a blow to the face when he turned around, and enraged, a flung out his fist, striking Ezra directly where he had scratched him earlier. Pain blossomed across Ezra's entire arm, spreading up into his shoulder, and just before the Trandoshan could deliver him another blow, Sabine caught the man's wrist. In her opposite hand, she held one of her blasters.

"Just try it," Sabine said coolly, staring into the slitted pupils with cold defiance. The Trandoshan looked at Ezra, then back at Sabine's distinctly Mandalorian blaster, and decided it was not worth the struggle. He slunk away, much to the dismay of the onlookers. Sabine went to collect her wounded partner, taking hold of his good arm and discreetly pulling him out of the door.

Once they were outside, Sabine turned to him. "Why don't you listen to me? I told you not to blow our cover! What if Grahrk had been there?"

"But he wasn't, okay?" Ezra answered, "Look I can sense you're angry, but-"

"Don't try to read my mind," Sabine snapped, "The point of the matter is, you jeopardized the mission."

"Well, I'm sorry if I'm not going to just let some scumbag touch you," Ezra answered indignantly.

"At least tell me you got some creds," Sabine said, as they crossed the street in the direction of a cheap motel, narrowly avoiding an intoxicated couple consisting of an Anzati and a lethan Twi'lek.

"Of course," Ezra answered tightly, "Did you?"

"Not before you started a full-scale brawl," Sabine said pointedly, "Now, hurry up. The motel will fill up quickly."

* * *

The streetlights shone through the shutter slats, casting alternating stripes of light and shadow across the dark room. In the wee hours of the morning, the hum of voices from outside had finally quieted, and Sabine anticipated a decent night's sleep. She was lying on the floor, wrapped in their blanket, warmer than she had been in several days. Though her body was exhausted, her mind was in the fuzzy state between awake and asleep. Her eyes would not stay shut, but they would not fully close, either. She was stuck blankly staring at her companion's back from across the room, which was partially covered by a coarse, gray blanket provided by the motel.

In spite of her best efforts to fall asleep, Sabine began to mull over the events of the day. Her thoughts kept returning to fight in the cantina, and in the quiet, warm space of their room, Sabine found that her anger towards Ezra had softened. At the very least, should she really have expected anything less from him? Ezra had a protective streak as wide as the Outer Rim, and both of them viewed orders as mere suggestions. Even though Sabine outranked him within the Alliance, why should she have thought her orders should be any different?

Sabine rolled over to face the wall, restless. She knew Ezra was completely devoted to her, something he had proven a dozen times over. She recalled an incident when they were fifteen and seventeen: They had been sent to an old medical station, left over from the Clone Wars, in search of med supplies. Sabine and Ezra had been separated from Zeb and Chopper, and it was then that they had first encountered the Seventh Sister and the Fifth Brother, Vader's replacements for the recently defeated Grand Inquisitor. After a short battle, Ezra had closed off a blast door, trapping himself in with the two Imperial Inquisitors but leaving her to go free. Sabine could still distinctly recall the mix of emotions that had flooded her: Frustration with Ezra for not allowing her to fight alongside him, anger at him for taking the mission into his own hands, but most of all, fear for his safety. At that time, they were not as close as they were presently, but Sabine did care about him, more than she had admitted to herself.

He had even been willing to sacrifice the entire mission for her, too. When the Inquisitors threatened to behead her if Ezra did not contact the fleet, he instantly gave into their demands, even going as far as to call for Ahsoka. That stuck with Sabine: Had Zeb not come up with a rescue plan, the entire fabric of the Alliance could have come undone. In that moment, her life was more important to him than the rebellion, and it frightened Sabine. Though she was willing to die for their cause, Ezra was not willing to sacrifice her for the rebellion. To him, she took precedence over even the Alliance.

Though not on the same scale, the fight in the cantina had reiterated this idea. Ezra chose to jeopardize the mission in order to defend her, much to her chagrin. She valued their close relationship, but Sabine did not want him to prioritize her above the mission. She did not mind the fact that he cared about her more than he cared about the Alliance itself, because she felt the same way towards him. She did not exactly have fond feelings for the militaristic order of the group, with its ranks and overbearing leaders. No, it was the _idea_ of the rebellion that Sabine held dear.

Sabine rolled over again, her gaze falling on Ezra, her eyes following the gentle waves of his hair. Perhaps she was reading too much into the incident. In Ezra's mind, it was probably not a conscious choice between her or the mission, but a simple, impulsive reaction. Ezra was such a generally good-natured person that she often forgot that his fuse was short. Jedi training had helped to remedy this a bit, but although it was not his prevalent character trait, his temper was intense. His anger manifested as hot and bright, but quickly burnt itself out, whereas she was more likely to keep a quieter, colder sort of anger for a long period of time.

Sometimes, Sabine was surprised that Ezra was a Jedi Knight at all. It was not that he was untalented or undisciplined; in fact, in Sabine's own admittedly biased opinion, she considered him a greater warrior than Kanan, and possibly even Ahsoka. Rather, he did not adhere to Jedi principles of cold detachment. He expressed his anger with less restraint than a Jedi was supposed to possess, and he certainly disregarded the Jedi doctrine of avoiding love. In some ways, this made Sabine glad: Her heritage made her wary of "true" Jedi, but Ezra was nothing like the emotionless enemy that fought her ancestors. Her Jedi was not one of them, and neither was Kanan or Ahsoka.

Sabine resolved to apologize to him in the morning, and soon, sleep claimed her.

* * *

 **Mando'a words…**

 _Chakaar_ -scumbag

 _Haarchak_ -"Damn it!"

 _Manda'yaim_ -The planet Mandalore


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N Hi, folks! Thank you guest reviewers! It means a lot to me. :) Oh, and happy birthday to John Boyega (Finn in Episode VII), or "peanut," as Daisy Ridley would call him, or "cinnamon roll," as the tumblr users would call him. To those of you who aren't as inept at using tumblr as I am, who would you consider the "cinnamon roll" of Rebels? Heck, weigh in even if you aren't a tumblr user.**

 **Mando'a words at the end, as always.**

 _Travel Companions_ , Chapter Five

Morning came to the small motel room, and Ezra awoke first. He pulled on his tunic, and grimaced as the coarse fabric brushed his forearm. Three identical lines ran from the crook of his elbow to his wrist, a gift from the Trandoshan they had encountered in the cantina the previous day. Ezra stood and walked to their packs on the balls of his feet, in order not to awaken Sabine.

As he rifled through their belonging in search of something for breakfast, he absently grabbed Sabine's caf, too. They had not lived in such close quarters since the early days of the rebellion, aboard _The Ghost_ , and he had not realized how many little things he had forgotten about her. Like how she hated mornings, for instance, or how she always turned her boots over and shook them out before putting them on in the morning, whether they had slept indoors or not. He found these traits endearing, making sure to carefully cement them in his mind this time. After this mission was completed, he did not know when they would be in such close quarters again.

The thought made Ezra restless. He had hoped that this assignment would shed some light on their bond, but it did not. Over the course of a few days, a new level of complication had been added to their relationship. Being so close to her only served to make Ezra's feelings for her intensify, but what about her feelings? She hid her emotions well when she wanted to, despite their strong connection. She had slipped once, the day they sat beneath the tree, planning their imaginary trip to Naboo. Her gaze had carried so much weight, intense yet soft, as though her heart were trying to speak directly to his. This was not the first time that Ezra felt that perhaps she returned his feelings, but in the typical Sabine fashion, she cut the moment short before they could really get anywhere.

It reminded him of an incident from his childhood: When he was around six, about a year before The Empire took his parents, he had been out playing with some Loth-cats in the prairies outside of Lothal City. Before he realized it, a dust storm began, blinding him to everything save for what was directly in front of him. Whenever he saw a wavering shape through the dust, he would expect it to be the city walls, but when he reached it, it would only be one of the beehive-shaped rocks that littered the planet's surface. When it came to understanding Sabine's feelings towards him, he felt like that little child again, and it frustrated him.

As he tore open a ration packet, Ezra's eyes passed over his arm, which bore one scratch per sharp-nailed Trandoshan finger. He thought back on the incident, and felt himself begin to grow angry again, an unwelcome, yet familiar feeling. He hated the creature for being so forward towards the person that he loved, but beyond that, it deeply bothered Ezra that a woman like Sabine, so strong and capable and intelligent, should be reduced to an object. He knew that Sabine was angry at him for blowing their cover, but if given the opportunity again, he would still have fought the Trandoshan. He knew that it was not the most Jedi-like response, but Ezra did not care.

After devouring his meager breakfast, Ezra quietly crept out of the room in search of the 'fresher. When he returned, hair still dripping, Sabine was awake, sitting crossed-legged in front of her holoprojecter, over which a small figure of blue light hovered. He had the appearance of a man who had been burly and large in his younger days, but had softened with old age. He had a round chin and gray hair, but a wise, regal face. Ezra quickly realized that this was Senator Tanner Cadaman of Feenix.

"We're only a few days at most from your position, Senator," Sabine was saying, in a clear, professional tone. Ezra tried to creep past the hologram without entering Cadaman's line of sight: With his hair still dripping and his chest bare, he was in no condition to meet the former galactic Senator. Ezra suddenly missed Zeb-the Lasat would have found his predicament a riot.

" _Good_ ," the man responded, " _I eagerly await the arrival of you and Master Bridger. Senator Cadaman, out_."

The blue shaft of light flickered out, and Sabine turned her attention to Ezra. "If only he could see the great Master Bridger now," she remarked snidely, flicking her amber-colored eyes over his bare chest. Ezra hurriedly pulled on his tunic, his cheeks growing hot in spite of himself. He sat down and set to drying his hair with the spare blanket.

"Listen," Sabine said, taking on a more serious air, "About yesterday, I… I'm sorry. I overreacted."

Ezra was a little bit surprised by her words, but he shook his head. "No, I should have listened to you. I'm sorry."

Sabine shrugged. "I understood why you did what you did," she responded, then added, "I may have done the same, had our roles been reversed."

He was again surprised by her admission, and emboldened, he said, "It's only because I care about you, Sabine."

"I know," she answered softly, giving him a small smile. The Force surrounding her was lit with a gentle, flickering ember-of what? It was an emotion that Ezra could not name, but it gave way to a feeling of hope in his own chest.

"Is everything okay between us now?" Ezra asked eagerly.

"Yes," Sabine responded, and again he sensed the flicker, " _Cin vhetin_ , as they say on my homeworld. Now, you pack up-and you better not have used up all the hot water in that 'fresher."

* * *

A quarter of an hour later, the pair left the motel, and were again pushing the speeder between them. They made their way to the north side of Karkko, where a counter was positioned at the mouth of a small cave. In front of the counter was a human male, and beyond his broad shoulders, spare parts, rusty weapons, and various pieces of junk. Ezra pressed some stolen credits into Sabine's hand as they approached the vendor.

"Might want to get your speeder looked at," the blackmarketeer said, punctuating his comment by spitting a lump of t'bac from the side of his mouth.

"That's what we're here for," Sabine answered, "You don't happen to have a few spare fuel lines around?"

The man bit his gray-flecked mustache in thought. "Maybe. I'll take a look."

As he began to rummage through his merchandise, Sabine rested her elbows against the counter, impatient. Ezra's eyes roamed the contents of the cave disinterestedly-it was all the typical junk he used to steal and sell on Lothal. Suddenly, he felt his gaze being drawn to right side of the space, to a decommissioned set of power couplings. An object laid beneath, its metallic surface tossing the gray, midmorning light back at him. He instantly knew what it was: A lightsaber.

"Mister?" Ezra spoke up, trying to sound unaffected, "What's that thing, under the power couplings?"

"This?" The man asked, picking up the lightsaber and placing it on the counter, "It's a lightsaber. The sword of the Jedi Knights, or something like that."

Sabine picked it up, flicking a glance back at Ezra. He took it from her, studying it in his hands. It was solidly built, although it looked like it had not been used in decades. The hilt was long, with multiple registers, and thin bands of cortosis projecting from the pommel cap, to serve as added protection. It was a good idea, one he wished he would have thought of when he designed his own weapon, several years prior. He pressed the activation stud, but much to his chagrin, nothing happened.

"It probably used to light up," the blackmarketeer said with a shrug.

"Where did you get it?" Ezra asked, purposely holding it upside down to make it appear that he was unfamiliar with the weapon.

"The cliffs north of Karkko," he answered, "Those cowardly Anzati won't go there. They think it's haunted or something… You know, folklore and stuff. I'm originally from Coruscant, where we don't believe in all that hokey-"

"Wait," Sabine said, trying to steer the man back on topic, "What do you mean, 'haunted'?"

"The Anzati think there are ghosts among the caves," he answered, winking, "The worst kind- _Jedi ghosts_."

"Neither are real," Sabine said, resting her chin on her hand, and Ezra was grateful. He was worried that his interest in the lightsaber would have made the man suspicious, but if he thought that they did not believe in Jedi, they were safe.

"To each his own, doll," the man responded, shrugging.

"How much?" Ezra asked, not appreciating the moniker that the man had granted Sabine.

"10,000 creds," the man answered squarely.

"That's ridiculous!" Sabine exclaimed, "How do we know it's not a fake? Especially since it doesn't even light up."

"Take it or leave it," the man answered.

Strangely, Ezra felt as though the weapon was calling to him, as Kanan's lightsaber had done when he first boarded _The Ghost_. He did not know why, but he knew that he was supposed to take the lightsaber. He made up his mind, briefly squeezing Sabine's hand beneath the counter, to say _T_ _rust me_. She gave him a questioning glance, but he already raised his hand, waving his fingers slightly in front of the man's face.

"You will give us the lightsaber," he said, with a clear, measured cadence. He began to worry when the man hesitated. Granted, his last mindtrick had not gone as planned, but it had been on a telepathic Anzati, not a weak-minded blackmarketeer.

" _I will give you the lightsaber_ ," the man repeated, echoing Ezra's voice, and relief flooded the young Jedi. He and Sabine exchanged a celebratory glance, and Ezra hooked the weapon onto his belt.

"Now, about those fuel lines," Sabine began, "I was…" She trailed off, looking towards the sky. Ezra followed her line of sight, and when he realized what she was staring at, his heart sank. An Imperial cruiser loomed overhead, herald by a wave of dread that permeated the Force around him. Sabine looked at him for a moment with panicked eyes, then turned to the blackmarketeer.

"Oh no," the man growled, "That's not good. The Imps used to leave Anzat alone… What the hell are they here for now?"

Sabine shook her head grimly. "Your guess is as good as mine."

The blackmarketeer glanced around shiftily, before announcing quickly, "We're closed. Thanks for doing business, kids."

"But our fuel-" Ezra was cut off when the man slid a metal cover over the opening of the cave. Sabine turned and began to hurry towards the townline, leaving the speeder behind, but Ezra took hold of one of the handlebars.

"Leave it," Sabine called, "It's not worth being caught by the Imperials."

When Ezra caught up to her, he asked, "Do you think it's just a coincidence, or did Jahr report us?"

"Jahr, or someone else," Sabine answered grimly, quickening her pace. They were at a run now, tripping over fallen logs as they went, following the gorge that led out of the city and towards the northern caves.

As they ran, Ezra focused on concealing his signature in the Force: The Silent Voices might help some, but if there was a Force user aboard the Imperial craft, they would be able to feel his presence. This made Ezra think of the lightsaber slapping against his side as they ran: Who did it belong to? And what had the blackmarketeer meant by 'Jedi ghosts'?

One thing was for certain: The arrival of the Imperials had added a new level of urgency to the assignment, and the stakes had just been raised.

* * *

Dead leaves crunched beneath Sabine's boots, and their living relatives shuddered in the wind above, as though they knew they would someday end up shriveled on the ground, too. It was a strange sensation: Sabine could hear the wind, but she could not feel it. The air was still within the gorge, and despite the cold, a thin layer of sweat formed over Sabine's forehead. The creek that ran down the middle of the canyon was protected by a paper-thin layer of ice, which easily shattered as Ezra trampled through it. He lithely maneuvered around rocks and fallen logs, the cold making his cheeks take on a tinge of pink, contrasting nicely with his blue eyes.

"Sensing anything out of the ordinary?" Sabine asked, hoisting her bundle higher on her back.

"No," Ezra answered, "Although the Force has taken on a different feeling since The Empire arrived. Or maybe since we acquired the lightsaber? It's hard to tell. The Silent Voices make everything fuzzy."

Sabine held back, snatching the 'saber and Ezra's own off of his belt, holding them up to compare the two. She knew nothing of the mechanics of lightsabers, instead admiring the designs from an artistic standpoint.

"What's your expert opinion, Jedi Master Wren?" Ezra asked, trying to snatch the 'sabers away from her and failing.

"Ha," Sabine said dryly, "Something tells me the Force wouldn't bestow it's awesome power on a Mando."

"Didn't your people steal a darksaber from us, at one point?" Ezra asked, recalling a story she had told him a while back.

"Yeah," Sabine answered, "It was passed down through my House, but we lost track of it a generation back, with my Uncle Pre Vizsla."

"Interesting," Ezra said, plucking the two 'sabers from her hands with the Force and securing them on his belt once more, warranting a glare from his companion. The trudged on, the walls of the gorge growing higher and wider apart.

"I don't like this," Sabine muttered, "We're essentially trapped." She looked around the canyon, searching for potential enemies, when her eyes fell on a natural slab of rock protruding from one of the sides of the gorge, a large, graceful sand-colored tree growing around it, it's long roots exposed. It was a bizarre contrast to the squat, red-barked trees native to Anzat. Beneath the tree was a dark mass the Sabine could not make out, and she pointed at it. "What's that, ahead?" Sabine asked Ezra.

As they approached, the dark mass became more clear: It was a pile of severely charred wood, and a weathered human skeleton. Sabine halted, jarred by the grisly sight, and Ezra did, as well. "Maybe that's what the blackmarketeer meant by 'ghosts'," she whispered. They cautiously approached, and Ezra made a small, surprised noise.

"This is the traditional cremation method for Jedi back in the old days, when Kanan was a kid," Ezra exclaimed, "At least, that's what he told me." They both looked at the stolen lightsaber.

"Could a Jedi on the run from The Empire have hidden here?" Sabine asked, surveying the canyon with new eyes.

"Maybe," Ezra said, "But if so, who cremated the Jedi? And how did they know Jedi funerary rituals?"

Behind the pyre was the mouth of a small cave, and Sabine glanced back at her companion. "Maybe we'll find some answers in here," she whispered. The entire scene had taken on a sort of hallowed, eerie quietness, and Sabine found her fingers entwined in Ezra's as they entered the cave, unsure of what they would find. It was pitch dark, and smelled of earth and rock. Ezra detached his lightsaber from his belt with his free hand, tentatively pressing the activation stud and filling the space with blue light.

"Oh!" Sabine exclaimed, releasing Ezra's hand, her trepidation forgotten. Covering the entire surface of the cave, from groundline to eye level, were primitive paintings. The were mostly sentient figures, Sabine could tell, but the artist used the most basic mode of representation, boiling down body parts into sticks. From the featureless disks that represented their faces, two wavy lines protruded-proboscises, she realized. _They must be Anzati_ , she thought, fascinated. She knew that the primitives used caves as shelter in the winter months, and often painted the interiors. Not for the sake of aesthetics, but as a way to chronicle events.

Ezra reached out a hand, his fingers extended towards one of the figures. "Don't touch!" Sabine exclaimed, "The pigments look really loose. See, they're already flaking off over there."

"Yes, Your Highness," Ezra answered sarcastically, and Sabine glared at him.

"When we go to the Naboo Museum of Art, they'll kick you out for touching the exhibits," she quipped, carrying on their long-running joke of a vacation to the serene planet, "And I won't feel bad for you at all." She snatched the lightsaber-turned-torch from his hand, and held it closer to the wall, observing the paintings.

Sabine came across to setients, lacking the proboscises of their fellow figures. One was lying horizontally, and Sabine knew from her minute knowledge of primitive art that this meant he had fallen, potentially in death. A single, green line extended from his hand. Ezra leaned over her shoulder, staring at the painting as well.

"Is that supposed to be a lightsaber?" Ezra asked, holding up the one they had secured at the blackmarket.

"You may be onto something," Sabine whispered, realization dawning on her, "Is she holding one, too?" She pointed to another figure, lacking proboscises, with waving lines protruding from her head, a green line in her hand, as well.

"We should contact Kanan," Ezra said, "These two could still be here, and we could recruit them for the Alliance."

"We should make a fire first," Sabine said, "Night is falling fast. Do you feel okay about sleeping in this cave tonight, skeleton outside and all?"

Ezra grinned. "I have you here to protect me," he said, "I'll contact Kanan in the morning."

* * *

They had built a small fire the center of the cave, large enough to provide a meager amount of warmth, but small enough ensure that they were not suffocated by smoke. The light ebbed and flowed out of the crevices of the walls, making the paintings seem to writhe and move. _Probably what the artist intended_ , Sabine thought, admiring the effect. The mouth of the cave had long been dark, and the soft sound of rain mingled with the crackling of the flames in a soothing chorus. Sabine should have been able to easily fall asleep, but she was wide awake.

The presence of her companion kept her mind from entering into sleep. He was lying with his back inches from hers, their single blanket distributing their warmth over one another. Sabine rationalized that their closeness meant nothing to her, but her body exposed her as a liar. Her heart felt light in her chest, and fingertips tingled with a quickened pulse. The blanket rose and fell ever so slightly with his breathing, and Sabine was careful not to allow her body to touch his, instead allowing a few conscientious inches between them.

Sabine shifted to her back, watching as the tendrils of smoke dissipated before reaching the roof of the cave. Ezra rolled over so that he was facing her, pulling the blanket taut as he did so. He was fast asleep, his face relaxed and serene. The firelight lent of golden glow to his already bronzed skin, and single strand of dark, wavy hair fell onto his forehead. Absently, Sabine brushed it aside, and she felt a pull in her chest. She could live in this warm, intimate scene every night for for the rest of her life, if she only stopped holding him at arm' length.

 _I care about you, Sabine_. His words from that morning echoed in her mind, begging for acknowledgement. She did not want to dwell on these things, but as she lay beside him, it was inevitable. Ezra wore his heart on his sleeve: He had been infatuation with her the moment they met, and four years later, she knew that he still loved her. No one had ever loved her as fiercely.

Perhaps it was the close proximity of their bodies, or maybe the new level of desperation brought on by the arrival of The Empire, but in that vulnerable moment, Sabine came clean with herself: She returned his feelings, with equal warmth and passion.

How could she not? Beneath their playful teasing and quick banter was a spark of desire, and beyond that, they had built up a strong rapport, his quiet understanding and faithfulness coaxing her out of her guarded, internal space. This mission only served to confirm what Sabine already knew, but tried in vain to ignore: She and Ezra were two halves of a whole, and they would break without one another.

Sabine wanted to leave her thoughts at that, racking her mind for anything else to dwell on, but a thought nagged at her: She knew she had to bury her feelings for the Jedi Knight deep within, now that she fully admitted them to herself. Ezra had already proven that he was devoted to her above all else, being willing to sacrifice any mission for her sake. If their connection grew into anything deeper than friendship, how much stronger would this devotion become? Ezra was a vital to the rebellion, not to mention one of the final Jedi Knights in the galaxy. How could she so selfish as to take him away from that? Ever since leaving bounty hunting to join the rebellion, Sabine had been trying not to live only for herself. At the moment, the cause overshadowed her own personal desires. Maybe after they defeated The Empire, she could finally give into her feelings, but until then, the rebellion had to be her first priority.

How long would Ezra be willing to wait, though? With his charismatic presence and easy smile, Ezra was a favorite of so many within the Alliance. _A favorite of the Princess_ , Sabine thought grimly. Sabine had to admit, Leia was far better candidate for Ezra's love than herself. She had always felt that Ezra was a truly good person, kind-hearted and self-sacrificing. He deserved to be with someone equally as noble, not a former Imperial cadet and ex-bounty hunter like herself.

But the thought of Ezra being with Leia made Sabine feel as though she were being punched in the stomach. What would she do, if she lost his love? He was the only person in the galaxy that she knew truly loved her with hesitation, and without that, she would still be left pining after him, stuck in a perpetual state of _k_ _ar'taylir_ -holding him within her heart. She was certain there was no one else in the galaxy like him, and if she lost him, no one could fill his void. How much longer before this scenario became a reality? She could not keep their relationship teetering on the edge of friendship and romance forever. Someday, she would have to choose between the both of them, and the greater good.

 _If all you do is fight for your own life, then your life is worth nothing_. Hera's words came to Sabine's mind, and she smiled grimly. Even when she was not around, her mentor was still giving advice. That particular phrase was one that Kanan and Hera had used to recruit her at age fifteen, and she knew Ezra had heard a similar bit of counsel upon joining the crew. They both knew that the rebellion had to come first, but what could she say to him? Tell him that she returned his feelings, but then crush him with some idealistic spiel about the rebellion and the greater good? That sounded hollow, even to Sabine. Besides, no matter how she phrased it, hurting Ezra was inevitable.

In a rare moment of vulnerability, Sabine's chest began to ache, leading to tears gathering beneath her lashes, and she tried to ignore them. The _Mando-ad_ people were a proud group, and she had not cried since she was a fourteen-year-old girl, when Ketsu left her for dead. She blinked them away, praying that her ancestors were not looking down upon her. She was afraid of waking Ezra: How could she explain what was wrong to him?

Outside the cave, the rainfall increased, sending a wave of humid chill into the space. Sabine shivered, despite the blanket, and rolled over again so that her back was to the cave entrance. She began considering inching closer to her companion for warmth, but their was no need. Though still asleep, Ezra put his arm loosely around her, his fingertips just barely pressing into her lower back. Whether this gesture was due to the sudden drop in temperature, or some unconscious intuition that his best friend was in need of comfort, Sabine was unsure. If the latter were the case, it had the opposite effect: This simple demonstration of affection made Sabine's heart ache all over again. How could she hurt him? Wrapped in his protective hold, she knew that she could not. All she could do is hold on to the ghost of a chance that she would not have to, that their relationship could hang in precarious balance until after the rebellion.

 _I care about you, Sabine._ Resigned, she slid her arm around Ezra as well, holding him close to her. She rested her forehead against his chest, his familiar scent both comforting and intoxicating, the soft thud of his heartbeat suddenly audible to her. Before long, Sabine's eyelids grew heavy, and she finally gave into sleep. Sabine had shamed her ancestors twice in one night: Sleeping in the arms of a Jedi Knight, the enemy of House Vizsla, and being too afraid to break the heart of that very Jedi.

* * *

 **A/N Hey, guys. Just wanted to say that the two Jedi depicted in the primitive cave paintings are canon characters, with a canon connection to Ezra and Kanan. I'll leave it at that until the next chapter, but if you read the same Star Wars comics that I did growing up, you may be able to guess who the are. I didn't give you a lot to go on, so here's a hint: Think about Kanan's Jedi lineage. ;)**

 **Mando'a words…**

 ** _Cin vhetin-_ "White Field," a clean slate or a fresh start**

 ** _Kar'taylir-_ To hold in the heart**

 ** _Mando'ad-_ Mandalorian, literally "son/daughter of Mandalore."**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Well friends, against all odds, I'm back. A huge thank you to all of you who have continued to support this fic, even though I haven't been posting. You guys have inspired me to continue _Travel Companions_.**

 **As for my absence, there are a few factors: Of course, good ol' writer's block, as well as a bout of depression. As I've mentioned before, I struggle with depression, anxiety, and OCD. It was bad, friends. But I'm still here, and I'm significantly better. Seriously, if you are struggling with this sort of thing, please seek help. It seems scary, but it will be worth it in the end. Also, in light of my recent struggles, I am switching my major from history to social work this fall, and I plan on becoming a mental health counselor. :) Honestly, I'm really proud of myself for completing this chapter… I hope you guys like it. There are about two chapters left. Again, thank you all for your readership and kind words. This one's for you guys. You're all amazing.**

 **Mando'a words are at the end. Shocking, I know.**

* * *

 _"It's the holodisc from your old house," Sabine said almost timidly, slipping the device into the_ Phantom _'s holoprojector, "It was pretty degraded, but I cleaned it up, and… I found something."_

 _In an instant, a wavering image popped up, comprised entirely of semitransparent light. Ezra recognized his mother, caught mid-laugh at the antics of her tiny son, as his father looked on, smiling warmly. "Mom… Dad..." Ezra breathed, in a state of disbelief. It had been eight years since he had laid eyes on Mira and Ephraim, and a wave of emotion swept over him. The foggy memories that he had held onto were suddenly vivid again._

 _"Happy birthday, Ezra Bridger," Sabine said, almost shyly, so quietly that he barely heard her. He was so caught up in the image of his parents that by the time he turned to thank her, she was already gone from the room. What remained, however, was her imprint in the Force: Warm and caring, and most surprising of all, focused entirely on him._

It took Ezra a minute to realize that he had been dreaming. This particular memory sometimes replayed itself while he slept, and he much prefered it to other, darker memories. Even as the scene began to fade, Sabine's Force signature remained. It was then that Ezra remembered where he was: With Sabine, on Anzat, tracking down Senator Cadaman, on the run from the Empire. Discouraged, Ezra longed to be asleep again, oblivious to the challenges ahead of them.

Ezra became aware of the rocky cave floor beneath him, and with it, a numbness in his arm. He tried to move it, only to find a weight pinning it to the ground. Confused, he opened his eyes, seeing Sabine. All of the thoughts in his head suddenly quieted as he took in the circumstance. He knew that the two rebels had gone to sleep beneath the same blanket, but he had conscientiously left a small amount of space between them. At some point during the night, that space had been closed. Their arms around each other, Sabine's head was resting on his shoulder.

Equally surprised and delighted, Ezra began to wonder which of them had initiated, and why? Was Sabine merely seeking the warmth of another person? Granted, the air inside the cave was cold, but if she were only following a basic instinct, would she have held him the way she did? In their waking hours, Sabine was so enigmatic: One moment, he was certain she did share his feelings, and the next, the opposite was true. However, without the inhibitions of wakefulness, she was curled comfortably beside him, a position far too familiar for two mere friends.

 _Perhaps I'm reading into the situation too much_ , Ezra thought, grounding himself. Suddenly, he felt the heat of embarrassment rising in his face, despite the chill morning air. Maybe he had initiated, and Sabine would be uncomfortable with the situation. Trying not to wake her, Ezra slid his arm out from beneath Sabine's sleeping form.

Sabine made a soft noise of protest, pulling him back down beside her. Ezra held perfectly still, incredulous.

" _Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum,_ " she whispered, at the end of a long string of _Mando'a_ words that he did not recognize. Ezra knew he had heard this particular phrase before, but he did not know what it meant, and bewildered, he settled back beneath their shared blanket. It was likely that the phrase meant nothing, but he pocketed it away in his mind. _Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum._ Perhaps if he were feeling brave one day, he would ask her what it meant.

He was reminded of an event from his childhood: The morning before The Empire came for his parents, when he was seven years old, he had been awoken by a nightmare (in hindsight, he wondered if it had been some sort of Force vision). He had crept out of his own room and climbed into his parents' bed, curling up between them. He was entirely oblivious that this was to be the last time he would sleep beside them, before they would be torn from his grasp.

He almost felt as though he were back in that moment. The Empire was coming for them, with Jahr not far behind-Ezra knew that full-well, and it was only a matter of time before they caught up to the two rebels. As he looked at Sabine, nestled beneath his arm, fast asleep, he promised not to allow history to repeat itself. He could not allow The Empire to take away Sabine, as they had his parents.

It was clear to him that Sabine would not be allowing him to move anytime soon, and he decided to try to fall asleep once more.

* * *

Although he had heard of it happening before, Ezra had never been awoken by a premonition generated by the Force. He was suddenly wide awake, an intense feeling of impending danger looming over him. His muscles, which had been relaxed and still seconds prior, were suddenly taut and primed for action. He reached out his hand, using the Force to call his lightsaber out of the pile of weapons and boots at his feet. He pushed a feeling of regret aside as he extracted himself from Sabine's hold.

He leapt to his feet, intent of surveying the area outside of the cave. He had only made it halfway to the entry when was overwhelmed by a swarm of primal, aggressive energy, causing a his head to ache behind his eyes. It bore no similarity to the cold, hostile presence of the Imperials, and after a moment, Ezra realized that he was sensing the primitive Anzati. Changing his mind, he raced across the threshold and back into the cave.

"Sabine!" he exclaimed, shaking her, "Get up!"

"Why?" she mumbled, pushing his hand away, half-asleep.

"The Anzati are nearby," Ezra explained hurriedly, feeling especially irritated with his friend's distaste for mornings, "Get up."

She sat up, sweeping her hair out of her face so she could glare at him. "I thought the man at the blackmarket stall said the primitive Anzati think these caves are haunted or something, and are too scared to come here."

"That's what he told us," Ezra said with a shrug, hastily stuffing supplies into their packs, "But we need to go. Now." He tossed one to Sabine, who reluctantly pulled on her boots and secured her blasters in their holsters.

In a matter of moments, they were outside the cave, the Force urging Ezra to take action. With one final glance at the unknown Jedi's funeral pyre, he took Sabine's hand, bolting in the opposite direction of the Anzati. They trampled through the underbrush, which was slick, due to the previous night's frost. The rushing in Ezra's head grew, and then suddenly, it was gone. He knew what that meant: The threat was upon them.

Sure enough, a pack of creatures burst into the clearing, and Ezra was taken aback. He was expecting the primitive Anzati to resemble their civilized counterparts, but these grotesque creatures barely even echoed them. Saliva dripped from their bared teeth, glinting in the early morning light, and muscles twitched beneath their gray-tinged flesh. Dozens of red, demonic eyes locked onto the two rebels, their gazes unnerving. Their eyes did not reflect a primal instinct, but rather, the intelligence of a sentient creature. Beside him, Sabine had drawn her blasters, her gaze never leaving the predators, sick trepidation radiating from her.

Ezra drew his lightsaber just as the first wave of Anzati struck. He sliced off the heads of three beasts with one swing of his weapon, only to have a slew of others replace them. Positioning her back against his, Sabine fired at another group of attackers, who appeared among the trees on the opposite front. It was disturbing: A pack of Anzati would attack, and then retreat into the trees, fog cloaking their bodies until only their red eyes were visible. It was disorienting, and Ezra was beginning to feel as though he and Sabine had underestimated the danger that the planet Anzat truly posed.

Sabine must have come to this realization as well, and a new wave of anxiety traveled through the Force around her. This energy, combined with the aggressive presence of the Anzati, and the omnipresent, dull roar of the Silent Voices made it difficult for Ezra to focus. Or were the Anzati doing something to his mind? He recalled the Anzati whom they had met at the spaceport, and Sabine's explanation that the species possessed telepathy. His concentration broken, Ezra nearly allowed an especially aggressive creature to overpower him, thrusting his weapon through it's chest at the last moment.

"Hey," Sabine called over her shoulder, "Their strength is in numbers. Try to separate the groups."

Of course, Sabine had already analyzed their foe's mode of attack. Sure enough, the predators did try to overwhelm their prey in a pack, launching their grey, sinewy bodies at their victims. With a sharp Force push, Ezra scattered one charging group, throwing off their attack. For a moment, he felt as though they were gaining the upper hand, but suddenly, Sabine stopped firing, and he sensed her panic.

Fear seizing his heart, Ezra hurriedly cast a swarm of attackers aside and turned around. Sabine was struggling against an Anzati, who had shot a web of proboscises from a cavity in his chest. The writhing cords were steadily winding up her wrists, lashing them together, and Sabine had dropped her blasters. She tried to kick the creature's feet out from under him, but to no avail. Ezra decapitated Sabine's attacker, then sliced through the proboscises binding her wrists, careful not to bring the blade too close to her skin and burn her.

"I didn't know they could do that," she said breathlessly, delivering another attacker a sharp jab to the face with her elbow before ducking to retrieve her blasters. As she did so, Ezra was suddenly knocked to the ground, a bony shoulder hitting him hard in the chest. Wheezing, looked up to see a pair red eyes, catching the light and tossing them back at him. A strong, sick dread overtook him, like a wave rolling over the shore, and he suddenly felt helpless, more helpless than he had felt since he was a seven-year-old child, alone on the streets of Lothal. He could hear a slew of voices, crying out, begging for him for help. But what could he do? He was frozen beneath the predator's crimson gaze.

"Yes," the creature hissed, it's voice hoarse and demonic, "I've craved the soup for too long." It's facial proboscises waved in front of Ezra's eyes, and a jolt of panic shocked his system as he realized that he was going to be the beast's next meal.

Suddenly, a shot rang through the forest, the sound familiar, although different from the distinctly Mandalorian noise of Sabine's WESTAR-35 pistols. For a moment, the creatures were distracted, and Sabine's fist connected with the jaw of Ezra's attacker, breaking the hypnosis.

"Who did that shot come from?" Ezra panted, his heart beating loudly in his ears, the feeling of dread still not entirely dissipated from his chest. The voices quieted into a soft echo, and then blended with the Silent Voices. Overcome by a whole new feeling of fear, Ezra realized the identity of the Silent Voices: They were the victims of the Anzati, whose minds had been sucked out through their nostrils. If not for the rebels' mysterious savior, Ezra would have joined them moments ago.

"Does it matter?" Sabine asked, reaching under Ezra's arms and pulling him up, "Let's get out of here."

Sabine dragged Ezra in the direction of the nearest tree, and began to scramble up the trunk. He followed behind her, his limbs feeling weak and unstable. He called on the Force, allowing it to assist him until he seated himself beside Sabine on a thick, high branch. Sabine looked at him, concern in her eyes. The soft brown was such a contrast to the piercing red he had locked onto a few minutes ago, and her gaze was like a drink of clean water after biting into something bitter. Ezra felt himself gaining composure.

From their vantage point, the rebels could barely make out a lone figure through the mist, mostly obscured by the dwindling swarm of Anzati. A lucky shot from the figure downed one of the Anzati, allowing his face to come into view. Much to Ezra's shock, the figure was none other than Uruk Jahr-although one of his horns was nearly chipped off, the remaining stump charred. Immediately, Sabine raised her blaster, aligning it with the bounty hunter's broad forehead.

"Wait!" Ezra said, holding out his hand. Jahr had just saved their lives, and at the very least, Ezra wanted to know why. "Let's just… see what happens. Besides, firing from up here will alert the Anzati to our position."

"Fair enough," Sabine agreed, although Ezra knew the Mandalorian in her was itching to finish Jahr. She shielded her eyes with her hand, observing the fight unfold, a look of satisfaction coming over her features every time the bounty hunter took a hit. It was a rare glimpse of the brutality of her heritage in her, Ezra realized.

The Devaronian's gaze was downcast as he fought, and after a moment of puzzlement, Ezra realized that he was doing this to avoid being caught in the Anzati's telepathic eyes. Jahr wasted no shots, firing a single blast into the foreheads of a dozen different Anzati. Quickly reholstering his blaster, Jahr reached for a weapon affixed to his back, the rusty spear that his ally had used to battle Sabine on the onset of their mission. He swung the weapon in a way that would have done the Jedi proud, slicing off proboscises left and right. They writhed on the forest floor for a moment, staining the ground red. Finally, after Jahr had destroyed the remaining predators, and exhausted, he fell to his knees. Again, Sabine raised her blaster.

"Start talking," she called.

Jahr looked up and exclaimed, "Don't shoot! I… I need your help."

"This better be good," Sabine responded, her blaster still raised. Jahr held up his hands, slowly getting to his feet.

"I"ll help you reach your Senator if you only help me offworld," Jahr said hurriedly, notes of desperation in his tone, "I've lived on Anzat since the days of the Republic. I can survive here, and I can help you."

"If you can survive here," Sabine countered, eyes narrowed, "Why do you need help offworld?"

The bounty hunter began approaching the tree, but froze as Sabine raised her second blaster. "The Empire," he answered, motioning to his broken horn, "I didn't alert them to your presence fast enough, and they were going to take me to some Imperial prison for 'obstructing the capture of two fugitives,' or some poodoo like that. I barely escaped with my life, and they destroyed my ship. You two are my last option."

"I knew it was you who alerted the Imperials," Sabine snapped, "Why the hell should we-"

"You said you can help us navigate Anzat?" Ezra asked, interrupting his companion. The Silent Voices still ringing in his ears, their macabre origins weighing on his mind, the idea of having a guide, even a Devaronian bounty hunter, was beginning to sound like a good one.

Jahr nodded. "I know how to fight the brain-suckers. You can't look 'em in the eyes, like you just did."

Sabine slowly lowered her blasters. Still, she did not reholster them. She motioned to Ezra's forehead, which still bore the bacta patch covering the wound he had received from the bounty hunter days prior. "Don't forget your history with us," she said pointedly.

"With all due respect, Commander," Jahr responded, "I just saved your Jedi's life."

Sabine twisted her lips to the side in thought, a habit of hers, and Ezra could not tell if she was evaluating Jahr's reasoning, or wondering why he had referred to Ezra as "her" Jedi. He certainly did not mind the moniker. "Well," Sabine said, after a moment, "Let's say we do smuggle you offworld. Where do we take you from there? You aren't coming back to the Alliance with us."

"Home," Jahr said quickly, "Devaron's in the the Outer Rim, not too far from here. Just hop on the Perlemian Trade Route."

Sabine flicked a glance at Ezra, and he could tell that she was indecisive. Ezra tried to probe the Force around the Devaronian, testing the man's motives, but the Silent Voices cluttered his mind. Suddenly, Ezra thought of a question. "Jahr, there is a funeral pyre not far from here. Was there anyone who lived in those caves?"

The bounty hunter nodded, and Ezra's heart skipped a beat. "Sure was. His name was Miles Croft. Had a Neti woman hanging around there too, but I never caught her name."

Ezra was elated with this bit of information, and his mind made up, he looked at Sabine. She looked back, raising her eyebrows at him. After a moment, she let out a sigh, then nodded reluctantly. Ezra turned his gaze to Jahr. "We accept your offer. If you help us reach Senator Cadaman, we'll take you to Devaron."

* * *

By the time the unlikely companions traveled in the direction of Senator Cadaman's coordinance, Sabine's feet ached in her boots, and hunger gnawed at her stomach. Her wrists stung where the Anzati had bound them with his proboscises, a reminder of the morning's attack. While her wounds were exterior, Sabine could tell that whatever Ezra had seen during his telepathic encounter with the creatures had scarred him internally. Sabine was usually the quieter of the two, but today, Ezra barely spoke, his eyes downcast, and he seemed anxious. It seemed that a new sense of urgency overtook him, and he moved forward at a furious pace. When he stumbled over a loose rock, Sabine grabbed his hand, and conveniently forgot to let go-although she was no Jedi, she sensed he was in need of comfort.

At least Jahr was behaving. He walked a few paces in front of the couple, his shoulders hunched a bit, almost meekly. It was such a contrast to the arrogant killer they had encountered in the cantina, and despite her suspicious nature, Sabine was beginning to believe the Devaronian's story. _After all_ , Sabine reasoned, _He did risk his life to save ours._ Still, with Ezra in a compromised state, Sabine was on her guard.

"So, you're Mandalorian?" Jahr asked, looking over his shoulder.

"You're supposed to guide us," Sabine responded coolly, "Not make small talk. But, yeah."

Jahr nodded. "I've worked with your people before. They're a tough bunch. _Ke nu'jurkadir sha Mando'ade,_ and all that."

"Yeah," Sabine said, surprised, "You speak _Mando'a_?"

"A little," Jahr answered with a shrug, "What's your house?"

"Vizsla," Sabine answered, taking a swig out of their canteen before offering it to Ezra.

Jahr looked back at them, an eyebrow raised. "How do your relatives feel about you being with a Jedi?"

"Like I said," Sabine answered abruptly, "Enough small talk." Still, she discreetly let go of Ezra's hand.

* * *

Ezra and Sabine sat just beyond the ring of wavering firelight, the warmth not quite reaching them. A ways behind, Jahr slept beside the fire, surprisingly trustful of his new partners. Their blanket draped around both of their shoulders in a fruitless attempt to stave off the cold, Ezra was reminded of the previous night's sleeping arrangement. He snuck a glance at Sabine, but her gaze rested on the holographic image of Kanan suspended before them. The blind Jedi Master was seated, running his fingers through his beard in thought.

" _Miles Croft_ ," Kanan said, echoing the name Ezra had told him. They had filled him in on the discoveries of the previous rotation. " _If I remember correctly, that was an alias used by Jedi Master Tholme before the Clone Wars. He was a close friend of the Jedi who trained my master's master, T'ra Saa_."

"T'ra Saa trained Mace Windu, who trained Depa Billaba?" Ezra asked.

Kanan nodded. " _Who, of course, trained me. Master T'ra is a part of your Jedi lineage_."

Ezra's mind returned to the second, female Jedi depicted in the cave drawing, and what Jahr had told them about the woman who had often been seen with Croft.

"Kanan, what species was Master T'ra?" Ezra asked, anticipation rising in his chest.

" _Neti, I think_ ," Kanan answered, and Sabine and Ezra exchanged a glance.

"I think Master T'ra is here, too," Ezra said.

" _Find her, if you can_ ," Kanan said, " _She would be a great addition to our cause. Even back in my day, she was one of the wisest and most powerful Jedi in the Order_."

"We'll do our best," Sabine answered.

" _I know you will_ ," Kanan said, " _Spectre One, out_."

The hologram sputtered before dying, and without the white noise it emitted, Ezra was suddenly aware of the Silent Voices again. Crying out just beyond his psyche, a constant reminder of what could become of the two rebels, Ezra rubbed his forehead, sighing in spite of himself.

Sabine shifted beside him. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"About what?" Ezra asked, turning to look at her.

"Whatever it is that's bothering you," Sabine responded softly. Of course Sabine knew-she always did. They made a habit of keeping nothing from one another, and Ezra did not want to break that cycle.

"Today, when we fought the Anzati," Ezra began, "I figured out the identity the Silent Voices."

"Yeah?" Sabine asked nervously.

Ezra inhaled deeply, trying to steady himself, before continuing, "They are the Anzati's victims. I don't know how they're stuck in the fabric of this place, but they are. And they were begging me for help, but I could do nothing."

"I see," Sabine answered slowly, and Ezra could sense of shiver of fear go through her. Then, she spoke up, "This will be over soon. We should reach Cadaman in the morning, and maybe by this time tomorrow, Anzat will be behind us."

"But we still have to find Master T'ra," Ezra reminded her.

"True," Sabine agreed, looking down at her well-worn boots. After a moment of quiet, she said softly, "I'm sorry for dragging you into this mess."

"You didn't drag me into anything," Ezra protested, "I wanted to go. And I don't regret it, even now."

Sabine gave him an odd look for a moment, before glancing up toward the night sky. Framed by darkened tree branches, colors danced through the atmosphere, reflecting on Sabine's skin and hair, which was still woven in Leia's braided halo. Stars ran together, creating almost a milky effect. Despite his trepidation, Ezra could not help but admire the cosmic display.

"It's beautiful," he remarked, and Sabine nodded.

"You know," she said, "On planets like Coruscant, with all the artificial lighting radiating into the atmosphere, you can barely see the stars. Not like here."

"You've been to Coruscant?" Ezra asked. Stealing a glance at his companion, he found that the sky paled in comparison.

"No," Sabine whispered, oblivious to his admiring gaze, "But I've heard. Someday, I want to see it."

She gazed absently upward, a sense of wistfulness creeping into her voice. "On Mandalore, we call the stars _ka'ra_. My mother almost named me that, but then she decided on 'Sabine,' an allusion to the pacifist Duchess Satine, who was still in power when I was born. It was meant to insult the Duchess, I guess. A lowly _Kyr'tsad_ baby would bear the same name as the ruler of Mandalore. Pretty stupid reason to name a kid, but that was my mother."

Ezra was surprised that Sabine had brought up her mother. She spoke of the Death Watch warrior so rarely, that Ezra did not even know her name. Still, he probably knew more about her than any of the other rebels, save for maybe Hera.

"I like your name," Ezra said, "There aren't very many names to choose from on Lothal: My parents thought they were being creative when they named my 'Ezra,' but later, I met two other kids with the same name."

"What does 'Ezra' mean?" Sabine asked.

"I think it means 'help'," Ezra answered quietly, "That's what they wanted me to be, I guess." Sabine glanced at him, sympathy in her eyes, and she slid her hand into his. Ezra was surprised by her touch, and reciprocated, entwining his fingers with hers.

"It's fitting," she affirmed, before adding with a wry grin, "All I was supposed to do was be an insult to Satine Kryze."

Ezra thought for a brief moment about asking her for the definition of the phrase she had whispered to him that morning, but was unable to find the courage. Frustrated with himself, he looked at the ground, where their hands were still joined. He noticed that her wrist was still ringed with red imprints where the Anzati's cord-like proboscises had bound them, and with an exclamation, he lifted her hand to get a better look at the wounds in the weak light.

"I'm fine," Sabine said, guessing his thoughts, "But I think the proboscises were coated in some sort of poisonous enzyme. It stings."

"I can try to heal it with The Force," Ezra offered without thinking, "Healing isn't my specialty, but I'll do all I can-"

"Don't waste your strength," Sabine said, shrugging, "I'm fine."

"If you say so," Ezra said. He ran his thumb over the delicate, marred skin, and from the corner of his eye, he could see Sabine's gaze fixed on him. His breath hitched when he recognized a look of longing in her features, her eyes lit with… Affection?

When he lifted his head to look at her, she caught his eyes for a moment before flicking them away, but he could not forget what he had seen.

"You don't have to worry about me," she began softly, "In fact, I should be worried about you. You're worse off than I am."

As though to prove her point, she gently touched the bacta patch still stuck to his forehead, but he noticed her hand was trembling slightly. Ezra felt equally nervous, and yet, he watched silently to see what she was doing.

Her eyes shifted to the twin scars that marred his cheek, and her fingers traced the familiar curve, her eyes going soft. His hand reached up, resting on top of hers, and summoning some of the famous Jedi courage, he spoke up.

"Sabine," he whispered, "What does _Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum_ mean?"

She froze, and Ezra's courage faltered. "It means 'I love you' in _Mando'a_."

"'I love you'?" Ezra asked, his heart thudding in his chest, glorious realization dawning on him.

Sabine nodded slowly. "'I love you,'" she echoed, although it sounded less like a confirmation, and more like an honest sentiment. He felt her name forming on his lips, but her thumb moved over them, silencing him. The entire forest seemed to have fallen quiet, and even the Silent Voices were subdued. An anticipatory light came into Sabine's eyes.

And suddenly, his lips brushed against hers. Her hand still on his cheek, Sabine tilted her head slightly, pressing their lips together into a real, true kiss. He slid his arm around her waist, falling in love with her all over again…

All of the sudden, Sabine pulled away. "I'm sorry," she said, "That was an error in judgement."

"An error in judgement?" Ezra asked, still in a daze.

"I'm sorry," Sabine repeated, standing. She seemed to be in a panic, "I'm sorry. We're on a mission, that's the last thing we should be-"

Ezra stood, too. He had nothing to lose: They had just made their feelings for one another dangerously obvious. "But Sabine, I love you."

"Don't say that," Sabine snapped, her panic turning to anger.

"Why not?" he asked, throwing his arms out in exasperation, "It's true."

"Because we're in the middle of a war," she answered, "And… you're a Jedi."

"This isn't because of the Jedi-Mandalorian thing, is it?" Ezra demanded, anger beginning to well in him as well.

"Of course not," Sabine scoffed, but Ezra did not entirely believe her.

"We're not our ancestors, you know," he said pointedly.

"I know that," she snapped, "It's just that you're the last of your kind. The Alliance needs Jedi. I'm a distraction to you-"

"I'll give that all up for you," Ezra said quickly, "I'll do anything you want."

"Don't say that!" Sabine exclaimed, louder this time. It was then that Ezra noticed that her cheeks were wet with tears. Instantly, all of his anger dissipated.

"Sabine…" he began softly, but she quieted him with a glare.

"Goodnight," she said stiffly.

"I'll be meditating if you need me," Ezra mumbled, but he still tossed their blanket at her. Not watching to see her walk away, Ezra sat down, assuming a meditative position. In spite of his efforts, one thing continued to echo through his mind.

 _Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum_.

* * *

 **Mando'a words…**

 _Ka'ra-_ Stars.

 _Ke nu'jurkadir sha Mando'ade_ -"Don't mess with Mandalorians."

 _Kyr'tsad_ -Death Watch

 _Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum_ \- "I love you."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N Wow, I am overwhelmed by the kind response to my latest update. Thank you all-it means a lot to me. I messaged those of you with accounts, but thank you to my guest reviewers: Anon, Guest, Guest, Gator, and Guest. Also, Malachi, where you at bro? We miss you!**

 **As we learned in the previous update, the Jedi on Anzat are Master Tholme and Master T'ra Saa. Many of you may know them from the Quinlan Vos comic saga. I fell in love with Quinlan (who will NOT be appearing in _Travel Companions_ ) and his associates waaay back in the day (middle school, to be exact) and I have always wanted to pay homage to them. There is such a sense of wonderment and adventure surrounding Quin, and I tried to capture a bit of that mood in _Travel Companions._ Also, it seemed to fit considering T'ra trained Mace Windu, who trained Depa Billaba, who trained Kanan, who, of course, trained Ezra. If you would like to learn more about T'ra, Tholme, or Quinlan, head over to Wookieepedia (just make sure you select "Legends" at the top of the page, because _Dark Disciple_ cancelled out a lot of the canon set up in the comics… Don't even ask me how I feel about that). Now, onto the story..**

 **One chapter left! Mando'a words are at the end.**

* * *

Gray light bled into the dark sky like dye spreading through fabric when Sabine awoke. It had rained overnight, she noticed, her blanket damp and clinging to her. Heavy guilt weighed on her mind, and for a moment, she could not remember why. Then, she realized. Laying on her back, her fingers stiff with cold, she stared upward, refusing to look at Ezra, who sat in meditation just beyond her peripheral vision. He had meditated all night, Sabine realized with a pang. Rolling onto her side, facing away from him, she could not help but run her fingers over her lips.

Sabine knew better. She knew better than to allow her emotions to get the better of her, than to give into her feelings. But as she had looked into Ezra's brilliantly blue eyes, confronted by their mutual affection, all of her idealistic resolutions fell away. The thought of his arms around her, gentle yet firm, his lips against hers, made her heart trip in her chest.

She mulled over the scathing words she had said to him after their kiss, and they circled around her mind again and again, driving her insane. The careful balance of their friendship had toppled with one reckless gesture of affection, and she had expressed her fear as anger. Ironically, she was afraid of hurting him, and her fear had caused her to do exactly that. For a moment, Sabine felt an urge to apologize. But what could she ever say to restore their easy companionship? She came up blank.

Her mind completely consumed with the events of the previous night, Sabine sighed. This exact scenario was why she had resolved not to give into her feelings for Ezra: Both of them were emotionally compromised, and their ability to work together would no doubt be inhibited. The odds on Anzat were already stacked against them, and this distraction was the last thing they needed. She felt trapped, in a panic, hemmed in by an impossible situation. It was a familiar feeling, one that permeated her memories of the Imperial Academy.

Reminded of the Academy, defiance bubbled in Sabine's chest. It was her mechanism of choice, and sitting up, she stubbornly refused to allow the events of the previous night disconcert her. She would carry on with her mission, as though nothing had happened. She put Ezra out of her mind as she pulled on her boots, beginning her daily remembrances in a whisper.

A cold wind had picked, laced with the sort of energy that made it feel as though it were about to storm. It whipped at Sabine's hair, which she had taken out of the braided halo, and was currently trying to secure in messy knot at the back of her head. The wind caused the meager fire which Jahr had built to fall back down into the coals. Storms left Sabine with a strange sense of anxiety. Growing up in Sundari, capital of _Manda'yaim_ , one of her earliest memories was seeing a massive storm roll over the city, and fearing that it would crack the transparasteel biodome surrounding the capital. Ezra, on the other hand, liked rain. He had told her that he associated storms with the end of a draught, as they had signified on his desert homeworld.

 _Haar'chak_ , Sabine thought, realizing she had absently allowed her thoughts to return to her Jedi companion, and irritated, she sat beside Jahr's fire, her back to Ezra. Deep down, she knew her stubborn resolution was childish, but she did not know any other way to respond without falling apart.

Sitting on the opposite side of the fire, Jahr looked past Sabine and called, "What are you doing?"

"Meditating," Ezra answered. His voice sounded thick and sleepy, like it usually did in the mornings. Sabine always found that sweet, but now, it only made her heart ache. She began to heat some water for caf, trying to mask her feelings.

"All night?" Jahr asked, tossing a ration pack Ezra's way. Sabine felt a pang: That was something she would have done for him, only a day prior. Ezra did not retrieve the packet.

"Yes. Jedi can go a while without sleep."

Jahr looked at Sabine with a shrug, but she fixed her gaze on the fire. "I think we'll reach Cadaman in a quarter of a rotation," she said.

"Where are you planning on going, once you have the Senator?" The bounty hunter asked around a mouthful of the dry, flavorless bars found in their Alliance-mandated ration packets.

"Karkko, I guess," Sabine said, with a shrug, "But our ship is in the spaceport orbiting the planet, so I suppose it doesn't really matter."

"Karkko will be crawling with Imperials," Jahr pointed out, "There's another city not too far from here… Bryx, I think it's called. A few clicks to the north of here. It's off the records; only locals know about it. Smugglers use it, mostly-trying to avoid the taxes the Imps put on spice. You could probably convince one of them to take you to the spaceport."

Sabine glanced at Ezra for his opinion, but the Jedi remained silent. "That is," Jahr continued, "If the Imperials haven't already confiscated your ship."

"Don't worry," Sabine said, " _The Phantom_ can mask her signature, and we didn't leave it in our own names."

"Don't forget," Ezra said, breaking his silence, "We still have to find the Jedi."

Jahr looked confused. "We believe that Miles Croft could be the Jedi Master Tholme," Sabine explained quickly, "And that his Neti companion could be Jedi Master T'ra Saa."

Jahr chuckled. "It might be hard to find 'em."

"Why is that?" Ezra asked.

"For starters, Miles Croft had been dead for years-That was his funeral pyre you saw," Jahr responded, "And the woman is a Neti."

"What's that got to do with anything?" Sabine questioned, taking a long sip lukewarm of caf.

"A Neti?" Jahr said, as though it might jog Sabine's memory, "They're shapeshifting, sentient plants. If a Neti wanted to hide, a forested planet like Anzat would be their ideal spot. Trust me, you'll only find this woman if she wants you to find her."

"Oh," Sabine said, the bit of information beginning to tug at her memory, "I think I've heard of the Neti. They can 'plant' themselves, and stay that way for thousands of years, right?"

Jahr nodded. "She could be any one of the trees on this planet. I think the only one who might have a chance at finding her would be your Jedi." He turned to look at the Knight, and said, "Why don't you use your Force magic and find her?"

"That's not how it works," Ezra responded sullenly.

Jahr laughed, revealing broken, yellow teeth, then stood, brushing the dead leaves off of his trousers. "That storm will hit soon. I'd like to reach the Senator before it does."

* * *

By the time Anzat's single sun was a cold, gray ball overheard, the travellers were deep within a lonely, steadily-narrowing canyon. A heavy mist hung over the thick trees, and Sabine kept expecting to see the hunched form of an Anzati materialize between the low-hanging branches. Trying to wrap her stiff fingers in the fabric of her trousers, she surveyed the ridges of the canyon: With every step the travellers took, the rock walls rose higher above them. _It would be the perfect location for The Empire to stage an ambush_ , Sabine thought, and glanced warily at Jahr. If he were going to betray them, this would be the place. In her peripheral vision, Sabine caught sight of Ezra looking at her, no doubt guessing her thoughts. When she turned to awkwardly regard him, his gaze fell to her well-worn boots.

"Jahr," Sabine began, "Can I have a word with Master Bridger, alone?"

"Sure," the bounty hunter responded, and continued on, allowing the two rebels to fall back.

Sabine's stomach lurched when Ezra turned to her, looking into his blue eyes for the first time since the previous night.

"Look," she said, pushing her hesitance aside, "We need to work together until this mission is over. Then… Then we can talk about…" She trailed off, unsure of how to finish her sentence.

To Sabine's dismay, Ezra merely looked sad. "Okay," he responded with a nod, not maintaining eye contact.

"I don't like this," Sabine continued, motioning to the canyon around them, "We're essentially trapped, if anything goes wrong."

"I think something will," Ezra said, lowering his voice, "I can sense that something is… Off."

Sabine shivered in spite of herself, sweeping a distrustful gaze over the ridge. "What do you think it is? Jahr?"

"The Silent Voices are clouding my judgement," Ezra responded, looking at their Devaronian partner in the distance, "But it's possible. Be on your guard."

"I will," Sabine said lamely, longing to say more to him, to somehow appease the sadness dulling his eyes.

When they caught up with Jahr again, he leaning against the thick, red trunk of a tree. Just beyond, the path sloped downward, leading into a box canyon. Two rock walls rose toward the gray sky, and against the back wall, surrounded by a copse of trees, was a small cave.

"In that cave, you'll likely find your senator," Jahr said, folding his arms over his chest. Sabine took a deep breath. After all of the turmoil of the past week, they had finally reached Cadaman's coordinance. As she waited for the familiar swell of satisfaction, she was met with none. All she wanted was to be off of Anzat, and to be right with Ezra again.

She looked at her Jedi companion, who was surveying the box canyon. If they thought that the path behind them made them vulnerable to attack, this canyon was essentially a death trap. They were hemmed in on three sides by tall rock formation, and Sabine was unsure if even Ezra, aided by the Force, could clear them.

"You go first," Sabine told Jahr, "And, give me your weapons."

"This seems pretty unnecessary," Jahr protested, but was quieted by a glare from Sabine. He handed his blaster to Ezra, while Sabine took the rusty spear affixed to his back.

"Now, walk," Sabine said gruffly, and the bounty hunter made his way down the precarious slope.

"I don't know," Ezra whispered, leaning close to Sabine, "I'm not sure he's going to betray us. Something feels sinister here, but I'm not sure it's him."

"Don't start feeling sorry for him," Sabine responded, beginning to trudge down the muddy trail leading to the canyon.

"We should give him back his weapons," Ezra said, "What if something happens and he can't defend himself?"

"A few days ago, he was still trying to kill us," Sabine said, stopping and turning to look sharply at her Jedi companion.

"That's cold," Ezra said, glaring at her, "Maybe try a little compassion?"

"You're the Jedi," Sabine said sarcastically, continuing on down the path.

"Hey," Ezra called after her, indignation in his tone.

"Well, you're the one that just called me 'cold.' Is that what you expect from a Mando?" Sabine accused, "Didn't you just say last night that we 'aren't our ancestors'?"

At the mention of the previous night, Ezra grew silent. He fixed her with a blank look, then continued down this path. "We'll talk about this later," he said gruffly.

The ground in the box canyon was rocky, and when coupled with the pervasive mist, it made the terrain difficult. The sound of branches thrashing in the wind was deafening, and each gust brought on more damp cold. Sabine was beginning to lose feeling in her nose and fingers when they reached the mouth of the cave.

"Senator Cadaman!" Ezra called, and from the rough, arcuated opening, crept an elderly man. Sabine instantly recognized him from their hologram conversations. He gave a restrained smile, but his thick, gray brow was furrowed.

"I know who you two are," he said, motioning to Sabine and Ezra, "But who is this?"  
"A guide we picked up in Karkko," Sabine lied, not wanting tell the Senator to know Jahr's real identity, for fear that he would object.

"Come in," Cadaman said, motioning for the travellers to follow him into the cave. The space was fairly small, and Ezra had to hunch over a bit in order to avoid bashing his head against the natural rock above them. The interior was strange: Make-shift chairs of rough, gray stone surrounded a finely-crafted Kriin-wood table, no doubt sourced from Cadaman's former senatorial office. Likewise, just beyond a barely-contained fire was a bed made from the same fine expensive, juxtaposed against an Anzati cave painting, filling an entire wall. Sabine wondered how the elderly Senator was able to transport all of these fine items to Anzat, but before she could ask, Ezra spoke.

"Senator," he said, "I think we should be getting on our way. The Empire is here; they're not far behind us at this point."

Cadaman shook his gray head. "I just need to gather a few things. While I do, you all are welcome to my supplies." He motioned to a shelf, which was stocked with many packages of food, vastly superior to the Alliance-mandated ration packs. Hunger gnawing at her stomach, Sabine advanced to look over the supplies, her companions following suit. She sat beside the fire, breaking into a bag of dried fruit and savoring the sweet aroma, when she noticed that Ezra wore a preoccupied expression.

"What?" she asked, tossing a handful of dried fruit into her mouth.

"I don't like this," he said in a low voice, "The Silent Voices are especially strong here. Something bad will happen. I know it."

"Good thing I took Jahr's weapons, then," Sabine said insolently, washing down the fruit with a long swig of water.

Instead of responding, Ezra stood. "Senator Cadaman," he called, "With all due respect, sir, I think we need to move. I can sense that something is amiss."

"Well," the senator responded, "If there is one thing I remember from the Clone Wars, it's that a Jedi's instincts are nearly always right. Lead the way, Master Bridger."

Just as Eza turned to exit the cave, a figure stood in the doorway. Sabine instantly recognized the clean, gray uniform of an Imperial agent. The wearer of the garment was a human male, with a long neck, bulging eyes and a sharp nose. He grinned as a pack of baying primitive Anzati, led by one of their civilized counterparts, approached from behind.

"Senator Cadaman, Commander Wren, Master Bridger," the Imperial began, his accent betraying his Coruscanti origins, "You're under arrest."

"Like hell we are," Sabine snapped, drawing both of her blasters. In an instant, the cave was lit up, the rebels and the Imperials exchanging fire. Through the smoke, Sabine recognized a familiar blue shaft of light as Ezra ignited his lightsaber to face the Anzati who swarmed into the cave. Sabine turned her attention to the elderly senator, who was huddled against the wall, trying to shield his head with his arms.

"Senator!" Sabine yelled over the sound of blaster bolt meeting lightsaber. She grabbed Cadaman's arm, pulling him over to the Kriin-wood table. She knocked it on it's side, positioning the old man behind it. "Stay here."

She had reemerged only to find Jahr lying on his back, the Anzati captain's boot on his chest, his blaster pointing in the Devaronian's face. Instantly, Sabine remembered that she had disarmed Jahr earlier, and he was defenseless. Before she could act, however, the captain pulled the trigger, killing Jahr instantly. Dismay and guilt flooded Sabine's mind, but she pushed it aside as an onslaught of primitives advanced toward her. Avoiding their eyes, she fought ferociously, picking off the beasts with expertly-aimed shots.

Suddenly, the voice of the Imperial agent rose above the chaos of the battle. "Listen," he yelled, and Sabine followed his voice to the mouth of the cave, where he stood with Senator Cadaman, blaster held to the elderly man's temple, "Surrender now, or I kill him."

Sabine paused, looking wildly at Ezra, who was beginning to lower his lightsaber. The agent rammed the blaster into Cadaman's temple, causing the old man to cry out in pain and fear. Reluctantly, Sabine sat her weapons on the floor, raising her hands to eye level. Ezra followed suit. The Anzati captain hurried forward, scooping up their weapons while some of his underlings secured the rebels' hands behind their backs with stun cuffs.

Slowly, a smug grin replaced Senator Cadaman's expression of terror, and cold realization dawned on Sabine. The Imperial agent lowered his blaster and handed it to the elderly man, who affixed it to his belt.

"Son of a-" Sabine began, but Cadaman interrupted, turning to glare at his superior.

"Damn, Polus," he snapped, rubbing his temple, "You didn't need to be that rough."

By this time, Ezra had realized the situation. "You've been with the Imperials the whole time, Cadaman?" he exclaimed, struggling against the cuffs.

"Tanner Cadaman is dead," the actor responded with a snort, "He has been since the early days of The Empire. Killed by Darth Vader himself."

Sabine's heart sank, and she glanced at Ezra. _That was the something he was sensing._ Her suspicion of Jahr had been entirely misplaced, and he was dead as a result. Even worse, the Alliance had been walked into an elaborate trap, and Sabine had unknowingly dragged her best friend in with her.

* * *

The captives were moved outside of the cave as a cold rain began to fall. Sabine and Ezra had been ordered to stand back-to-back, as one of the primitive Anzati shot a long, writhing proboscis from it's chest cavity, binding the two rebels together. Just before the strand incapacitated their arms, Sabine caught Ezra's hand in her own, a quiet display of solidarity. The proboscis bonds stung where they touched bare skin, and Ezra shifted, trying to have as little contact with them as possible.

He shook his drenched hair from his eyes, searching the scene for their weapons. Beside them was a pack of primitive Anzati, salivating over the rebels, their superiors being the only thing holding them back from feasting on their prey. Ezra avoided their glinting, bulging eyes as he continued to scan his surroundings.

"Don't look at them," Ezra said to Sabine, "Keep your eyes shut."

"I know," she answered from behind him, and although he could not see her, he could tell that she was distressed. The Force around them reverberated with her barely-contained panic, and he could feel her back muscles tense against his own. Although Sabine was one of the most fearless people Ezra had encountered, he knew that she was particularly horrified by the idea of death by Anzati. And with the brain-suckers surrounding them, hungers in their eyes, their sharp teeth glinting, he knew she was terrified. He knew, because he was as well.

"Sabine," Ezra said softly, setting aside all of the chaos in their relationship that the last rotation had brought on, "It'll be alright."

She did not answer, instead squeezing his hand. Ezra continued surveying the area, ensuring he could make good on his promise to her. Beneath a spreading tree, shielded from the rain, Agent Polus, the civilized Anzati captain, and 'Cadaman' argued amongst themselves in hushed tones. Then, Ezra's gaze fell to Polus' belt, where his lightsaber was affixed. Pushing his fear aside, Ezra closed his eyes, beginning to draw the Force in, preparing for action. He focused on gathering the ancient power in every fiber of his being, his body and mind becoming primed for battle.

"Ezra?" Sabine said suddenly, taking the Jedi by surprise, "I need to say something."

"Not now," he responded, closing his eyes tightly, trying to regain his momentum.

"This can't wait," she insisted, and after a moment, Ezra complied, giving her his attention. After a deep breath, Sabine continued, "I'm sorry about last night. About everything."

"Me, too," Ezra responded, looking at his feet. Before he could say anymore, Sabine spoke again.

"I don't know if we'll make it out of this one, and…" Sabine paused for a moment, her voice trailing off. Then she spoke again, "I want you to know that I love you."

Ezra had imagined her saying those words for years, since he was a fourteen-year-old kid on Lothal. Finally hearing it from her lips, not as a definition for some _Mando'a_ phrase, caused a feeling of elation to rise in his chest, in spite of the dire circumstance. "You love me?" he asked, breathless.

"I do," Sabine responded, her voice soft and warm and honest, before adding, "And I know that you love me."

"Since the day I met you," Ezra responded ardently. Her fingers, entwined with his beneath their bonds, somehow gripped him tighter. With a renewed sense of urgency, Ezra began to gather the Force within him. If he could only manage to slip his hand through their restraints, he could call his lightsaber to him and free them. This, however, was no easy task: The poisonous enzyme coating the proboscises made Ezra's skin feel as though it were on fire. Gritting his teeth, he began to burrow the fingers of his free hand through the layers of bonds. As he set about this painful task, their captors returned.

Flanked by 'Cadaman' and the Anzati captain, Polus approached, the rain darkening his gray uniform. He wore a look of cunning determination as he clasped his hands behind his back.

"I didn't expect the Alliance to send such high-ranking members to retrieve an exiled senator," Polus remarked, grinning at Ezra, "And a Jedi. Lord Vader will be pleased."

"I didn't expected The Empire to send an underling after us," Sabine countered, looking over her shoulder at the Imperial agent, spirited in spite of the dire situation.

Polus turned away from the Jedi and walked toward Sabine. Ezra could no longer see the Imperial, and he prayed that he would not hurt the Mandalorian for her defiant words. "And would you look at that, Commander Wren," Polus said, "An _underling_ took down the Alliance's best and brightest."

Before Sabine could retort, the Anzati captain approached, regarding the Imperial Agent with an accusatory glare. "My men were promised compensation," he said, "You need to produce someone for them to eat, or they may resort to an unplanned meal." He glanced at 'Cadaman,' causing him to squirm, which gave Ezra some small satisfaction.

"They can eat that bounty hunters," the actor fired back, pointing to the cave.

"If the prey dies, so does the 'soup,'" The captain insisted, "They need live prey."

Polus held up a hand to silence them. "The girl," he said, and Ezra could hear the gleeful malice in his voice, "We'll tell our superiors that there was an 'accident' with the locals. Lord Vader is more interested in the Jedi anyway."

"No! Wait!" Ezra exclaimed, struggling against the bonds, but it was too late. The captain motioned to Sabine with one deft flick of the wrist, and a pack of Anzati swarmed forward, proboscises writhing. Their hisses nearly drowned out the sound of Sabine's terrified cry, and she gripped his hand with frightening intensity, her fingernails digging into his skin. After a moment, however, her hand fell slack in his.

Panicking, a surge of adrenaline coursed through his veins, Ezra plunged his free hand through the bonds, the searing pain from the poisonous enzyme barely registering in his mind. He called his lightsaber from Polus' belt, and in a flash of scorching light, he cut through his bonds. The Imperial Agent raised a blaster, but before his finger even brushed the trigger, Ezra took his head off with one powerful stroke. Before his decapitated head hit the forest floor, Ezra was upon Sabine's attackers.

 _Rage_. Ezra had brushed with the forbidden emotion many times on his path to Jedi Knighthood, but not since obtaining the title. In that moment, however, is filled him, dangerous and familiar. A hunched, sinewy Anzati had inserted it's proboscises into Sabine's nostrils, beginning to feed on her mind. Her eyes were frozen wide with terror, reflecting the red, telepathic light of the demon-creature before her.

Ezra swung his 'saber without mercy, first severing the beast's proboscises, then thrusting his weapon through it's chest, killing it instantly. Sabine fell forward, unconscious, but Ezra caught her before she hit the muddy ground. Her head against his shoulder, dread filled Ezra's heart as he noticed two thin trickles of blood coming from her nostrils.

By this time, the Imperials had realized the situation, and both the Anzati captain and 'Cadaman' drew their blasters. Calling on the Force, Ezra leapt into the tree above, still holding his unconscious companion. The branches were slippery with rain, but he managed to catch himself before leaping to the next tree over. Blasterfire scorched the air around him as he continued traveling from branch to branch, trying to make it to opening of the canyon. Sabine was a deadweight in his arms, and he could sense her lifeforce beginning to grow dim.

"Master T'ra, if you're here," he implored desperately over the pouring rain, " _Please, help us_."

* * *

 **Mando'a words…**

 ** _Haar'chak_ -"Damn it!"**

 ** _Manda'yaim_ -the planet Mandalore**


End file.
